The term “fairy tale” describes circumstances or things notably blessed with great happiness and good fortune, such as a fairy tale ending or a fairy tale wedding or romance.

In the centuries-old form of oral and written storytelling, those unjustly harmed, downtrodden and beleaguered are rescued and showered with rewards and love. The compensation arrives by various forms of magic and divine intervention. Modern fairy tales focus almost exclusively on the glorious rewards and glosses over the cruelties that precede them. Before fairy tales evolved into children’s entertainment (and further, were cinematically Disney-fied), they were actually as macabre and violent as anything Quentin Tarantino could wickedly concoct.

And that’s where I arrive at a way of encapsulating and working my way to some kind of recovery from the reading experience that is A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara. Days since my eyes slipped from the end of what did not feel like page 720 because it went so swiftly, I’m still digesting and reeling from what is essentially a fairy tale, with an intense concentration of abuse and sorrow thrown up against an equally dense compression of transcendent joy, accomplishment and love encompassed in this book.

Four young men graduate from a small Massachusetts college and remain friends as they pursue their lives and careers in New York. The book traces the relationships of actor Willem, artist JB, architect Malcolm and lawyer Jude from post adolescence to late adulthood. The era in which their story unfolds is not specific, but is contemporary. As the friends move from youth to maturity and to notable measures of success, theirs is literally and figuratively a rich universe, strangely cloistered from or devoid of financial considerations or the influence of technological change or world events. (Set in New York City and environs, a notable historical event is almost startlingly absent.)

The relationships of the four young men intertwine and at times unravel, then spool back, in believable and organic fashion over the years. Increasingly implausible, however, is the tolerated mystery around the horrific traumas in Jude’s early life, which inform and affect his savagely self-abusive behaviour as an adult. As readers, we learn more than Jude’s friends, adoptive family and ostensibly close circle about the nature and extent of these traumas, making his behaviour and secrecy perversely understandable, but as frustrating for knowing it as not.

Simultaneously frustrating and awe-inspiring is Jude’s contemplation later in life, when it would be fair to say that life has continued to test with rollercoaster alternations of happiness and grief:

“It had always seemed to him a very plush kind of problem, a privilege, really, to consider whether life was meaningful or not. He didn’t think his was. But this didn’t bother him so much.

“And although he hadn’t fretted over whether his life was worthwhile, he had always wondered why he, why so many others went on living at all; it had been difficult to convince himself at times, and yet so many people, so many millions, billions of people, lived in misery he couldn’t fathom, with deprivations and illnesses that were obscene in their extremity. And yet on and on and on they went.”

Even frustrated and repeatedly pummelled along the way, the reader is drawn so inexorably into this extended, grim fairy tale of a story. A Little Life (the title itself is many-layered, and appears as a phrase in one of the book’s most wrenching scenes) is dream-like, but like the most haunting dreams, it is pervasive, puzzling, tormenting and deeply moving when one wakes … or when one closes the book. It is a sprawling, horrendous, heartwrenching, uplifting Cinderella story – where, fortunately and marvellously, the evil step-parent trope is upended.

There is much one can clinically criticize or dissect about A Little Life, but so very much one cannot emotionally or even spiritually dismiss.

Here are the books I read in 2015, with links to reviews (here on this blog or on Goodreads) where I have them. (I confess that I didn’t get many books fully reviewed this past year. I’ll try to improve in that department in the upcoming year.) As I’ve done in previous years, this is an exhaustive, “all of” list, not a “best of” list.

I continued my commitment in 2015 to a daily devotion to at least one poem … and usually more, as friends on Twitter continued to generously share their poem choices and reflections via the #todayspoem hashtag. Now four years in, I haven’t missed a day, both contributing and enjoying selections from others in this edifying and vital communal experience. I’ve now pondered the works of well over 800 unique poets, writers, songsmiths and wordsmiths I’ve revisited or unearthed myself, and countless more via others wielding that often revelatory hashtag. On into its fifth year, I’m continuing with my #todayspoem habit every day heading into 2016, and I hope many will continue or join anew.

I also celebrated some uniquely beautiful books in 2015, including:

• Mrs Killick’s Luck, by Christina Fitzgerald

Here are the books I read, reread and read aloud in 2015. Wherever I go, I try to carry a book with me, so for each book, I’m also going to try to recall where I was when I was reading it.

1. The Gallery of Lost Species
   by Nina Berkhout
   (reread)

   I read this book at my desk in my home office, as I prepared the readers’ guide / book club questions for this book, offered by House of Anansi Press.

2. Mrs Killick’s Luck
   by Christina Fitzgerald

   As this book is in somewhat delicate condition, I never took it out of the house. I read this book at my desk in my home office and at the dining room table.

3. Hard Light
   by Michael Crummey
   (reread)

   I toted this book everywhere – on the subway, on the streetcar, in coffee shops while waiting to meet up with friends.

4. Fire and Air
   by Erik Vlamincky, translated by Paul Vincent

   This is another book I recall reading on transit.

5. The First Bad Man
   by Miranda July

   Not only did I take this book with me on transit, but I was finishing the last few pages as I took the subway to see Miranda July at an Appel Salon event at the Toronto Reference Library.

Heading to @miranda_july event tonight, I was reading the last few pages of quirky, gorgeous, sweetly wrenching The First Bad Man.

— Vicki Ziegler (@bookgaga) January 30, 2015

6. 10:04
   by Ben Lerner

   I was so wrapped up in this book that I had it with me when we went to see The New Pornographers at the Danforth Music Hall in early February, and I was reading it before the show started.

7. Life is About Losing Everything
   by Lynn Crosbie

   I was definitely reading this book on the subway.

8. The Devil You Know
   by Elisabeth de Mariaffi

   I read this book several times on the subway, including when I went to the Rowers Reading Series to hear Elisabeth de Mariaffi read from it. (She read a section I’d already read, if I recall correctly …)

9. Into the Blizzard
   by Michael Winter
   (read aloud)

   This book was our (my husband and I) read aloud book over winter 2015. Typically, I read aloud while my husband concocts wonderful dinners for us – he’s an amazing chef. So, most read aloud time is in our cozy kitchen, around the cooktop island, accompanied by a glass or two of wine.

10. Breathing Lessons
    by Andy Sinclair

    Both the engrossing story and the neon book cover brightened up a few subway rides.

11. Backup Singers
    by Sommer Browning

    I remember reading this poetry collection in the kitchen and at the dining room table.

This tea and #poetry afternoon break could become a habit … (cc @vagtalk) pic.twitter.com/iJQGyKVdeJ

— Vicki Ziegler (@bookgaga) February 28, 2015

12. Her Red Hair Rises With the Wings of Insects
    by Catherine Graham

    I took this poetry collection with me on a few errands, and I recall dipping into it while in the vet clinic waiting area, for example.

13. Safely Home Pacific Western
    by Jeff Latosik

    This poetry collection accompanied me on several subway rides.

14. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay
    by Michael Chabon

    I read this book in my home office as I followed along online as part of the One Book, One Chicago reading sprints. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay is a lively, addictive read perfectly suited to that participatory format. Our dog Fionn was often my company during reading sprints.

He's snoring a bit, but my dog is still very good company for this Kavalier & Clay #OBOC #readingsprint … pic.twitter.com/gWiIGxbnuQ

— Vicki Ziegler (@bookgaga) February 13, 2015

15. My October
    by Claire Holden Rothman

    I recall reading this book on a restaurant patio on a surprisingly warm spring evening while waiting for a friend.

16. The Road In Is Not The Same Road Out
    by Karen Solie

    I won a copy of this at the Anansi Poetry Bash, and started reading it on the subway ride home that very evening.

17. Human Voices
    by Penelope Fitzgerald
    (reread)

    This is another delicate book not allowed out of the house. I recall reading it snuggled in my favourite reading chair and in bed.

18. A Serious Call
    by Don Coles

    I recall that this poetry collection was my calming companion when I got stuck on the subway for a protracted delay one evening.

19. One Night in Mississippi
    by Craig Shreve

    I distinctly remember reading this book at the cottage in early spring.

20. Close to Hugh
    by Marina Endicott

    I got in some late spring/early summer porch reading with this wonderful book.

21. Daddy Lenin and Other Stories
    by Guy Vanderhaeghe

    I remember reading this book in the comfy reading chair in our loft bedroom at the cottage.

22. I Shall Not Hate / A Gaza Doctor’s Journey
    by Izzeldin Abuelaish

    I recall the bright sunshine at the cottage contrasting sharply with this somber but ultimately inspiring book.

23. Something Crosses My Mind
    by Wang Xiaoni, translated by Eleanor Goodman

    I remember reading this poetry collection both at the cottage and at home.

24. Tell
    by Frances Itani

    I definitely remember reading this book while relaxing on the dock at the cottage. In fact, I was so engrossed in it at one point that when I glanced up, a loon was swimming very close to the dock.

Dock reading, continued … @thenewquarterly @VehiculePress @millstreetbrew pic.twitter.com/Ah7FwnhIoE

— Vicki Ziegler (@bookgaga) July 15, 2015

25. Just Kids
    by Patti Smith

    This is another book I gobbled up while relaxing on the dock at the cottage.

Dock reading, continued … @quillandquire pic.twitter.com/JQwT5dSYPd

— Vicki Ziegler (@bookgaga) July 16, 2015

26. Where Did You Sleep Last Night
    by Lynn Crosbie

    I vividly recall reading a large chunk of this book on a long drive home from the cottage.

27. Split
    by Libby Creelman

    I read this book at the cottage, on the dock, on a sunny rock, and indoors when the bugs were fierce.

28. Loving Day
    by Mat Johnson

    When I’m alone at the cottage, I read while I’m eating. I recall reading this book at the cottage dining room table, with sunlight trickling in through the trees at the front of the cottage, with the pages of the book propped open with a chunk of quartz that I keep expressly for book-propping-open purposes.

29. The Green Road
    by Anne Enright

    Not only did I savour this book while alone at the cottage, but I had a wonderful discussion about it with one of my cottage neighbours while walking the dogs one morning.

30. Wrapped in Plastic – Twin Peaks
    by Andy Burns

    I have very fond and vivid memories of reading this book, accompanied by a mini binge watch of Twin Peaks on DVD, over a few rainy days alone at the cottage. I set up a portable DVD player in the loft bedroom, curled up in a comfy chair with book, popcorn and bourbon, and had myself a wonderful, spooky time with Agent Cooper et al.

31. Daydreams of Angels
    by Heather O’Neill

    I remember reading this book in the waiting room at the doctor’s office. I’m always very glad to bring my own reading material to waiting rooms …

32. What You Need
    by Andrew Forbes

    I definitely recall reading this book on a number of subway and streetcar rides.

33. Fifteen Dogs
    by Andre Alexis

    This book was another much appreciated transit companion … although the book rendered me verklempt more than one in public.

34. Outline
    by Rachel Cusk

    This book was my travel companion on a sunny autumn day when I took the subway to Harbourfront for Word on the Street, then took the Spadina streetcar and subway to the High Park Reading Festival, and then took the subway home in the evening when the High Park poetry readings were over.

35. Martin John
    by Anakana Schofield

    Is it kind of ironic that I read this book on the subway?

36. Malarky
    by Anakana Schofield

    This book was another constant transit companion.

37. Arvida
    by Samuel Archibald, translated by Donald Winkler

    I carried this book with me to and fro on the subway to International Festival of Authors (IFOA) events, and often read it between events, too.

38. Sideshow Concessions
    by Lucas Crawford

    In addition to Arvida, I also had this poetry collection with me during IFOA visits. Before a reading, I recall sitting upstairs in the Queens Quay building, gazing out at Lake Ontario, reading a few poems from this collection, alternating with stories from Arvida.

39. How You Were Born
    by Kate Cayley

    I remember purchasing this very fine short story collection at IFOA. I remember reading it during a wintry visit to the cottage.

Always a pleasure to support great authors, publishers and booksellers @ifoa #IFOA36 pic.twitter.com/3K96lVcbCh

— Vicki Ziegler (@bookgaga) October 25, 2015

40. Twoism
    by Ali Blythe

    I distinctly recall reading this poetry collection on the subway, and getting a look from a young woman across from me of that special recognition that readers give each other.

41. The Good Dark
    by Ryan Van Winkle

    This poetry collection was another fine transit companion.

42. His Whole Life
    by Elizabeth Hay

    I tend to drift off after just a few pages when I read in bed, but this book held my attention and often kept me awake, but in a good way.

43. Dear Leader
    by Damian Rogers

    I distinctly recall reading this poetry collection while sitting in a pub, having a beer and waiting to meet my husband for dinner. I was especially grateful to have those poems for company, as all the screens in the pub, which normally showed sporting events, were all tuned to some infuriating and violent breaking news about which I’d had enough.

44. Makarska
    by Jim Bartley

    This novel was an excellent and absorbing subway companion during a week when I had a lot of appointments, meetings and errands to run.

45. Confidence
    by Russell Smith

    I was reading (and being charmed by) this book at a restaurant while waiting to meet a friend for dinner, followed by the Tafelmusik rendition of Handel’s Messiah at Koerner Hall.

46. A Whole Life
    by Robert Seethaler

    I was reading this book as we drove from Toronto to Kitchener on Christmas morning to visit with family.

In 2015, I read 31 works of fiction (novels and short story collections), 11 poetry collections and 4 works of non-fiction.

Currently in progress, heading into 2016:

• Hope Makes Love
  by Trevor Cole

• Just Watch Me – The Life of Pierre Elliott Trudeau: 1968-2000
  by John English
  (read aloud)

  This book was particularly comforting and almost talismanic to read during the interminable 2015 federal election campaign.

Looking back fondly on my 2015 reading, looking forward eagerly and with anticipation to my 2016 reading, I’ll simply conclude (as I’ve done in previous years) …

It’s not how many you read that counts. It’s that you read that counts.

This slim collection of essays is an infectious appreciation of arguably (well, you get no argument from me) one of the most influential and defining creations ever to come out of television, the David Lynch / Mark Frost collaboration Twin Peaks. Author and pop culture aficionado Andy Burns (editor-in-chief of pop compendium web site Biff Bam Pop!) has packed his reflections with myriad details that will captivate longtime fans of the surprisingly short-lived show, bolstered with unique interviews with Twin Peaks writers, cast members and other principals and expanded accessibly with cultural and historical references and antecedents. The book also recommends itself as a great starting point for those new to Twin Peaks, as it moves forward from the show’s 1990-91 run to current programs that were clearly influenced by, benefited from and have paid homages to the Lynch/Frost pioneering creativity.

Wrapped in Plastic is a great accompaniment to a revisit/binge watch of the original program, especially the stunning and singular pilot movie. (I know, because that’s what the book inspired me to do, perfectly timed to some rainy afternoons during a cottage vacation week.) The book also reads well with such related books as The Secret Diary of Laura Palmer by Jennifer Lynch and Lynch on Lynch, creator David Lynch’s fascinating conversations with Chris Rodley about the Lynch oeuvre in which Twin Peaks is clearly central. Come to think of it, even Lynch’s Catching the Big Fish: Meditation, Consciousness, and Creativity offers insights into both his process … and even that of charming and enigmatic Twin Peaks protagonist FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper. The book is also a marvellous stopgap as those captivated by the original show await its continuation and/or resolution and/or who knows as it is reimagined by Mr. Lynch in the near future.

Claire Holden Rothman reimagines Hugh MacLennan’s Canadian literature classic Two Solitudes through the eyes and voices of an extended family touched in various ways by Quebec’s October Crisis. Rather than using her characters as symbols and thematic representations, however, Rothman creates palpably believable human beings touched by social, political and cultural forces, not just those buffeting Quebec in the 1970s, but reaching back to World War II. Beyond those external forces and influences, other connections and secrets are interwoven in the lives of prominent francophone author Luc Levesque, his wife Hannah, who is also the English translator of his works, and their troubled teenage son Hugo. There is an imperative tone to the “My” in the book’s title, driving home that what has happened in this pivotal month affects each character very differently, tests their strength and resourcefulness as individuals and challenges them collectively as a family.

Lynn Crosbie’s Life Is About Losing Everything is a gritty song cycle melding a dizzying array of short story, poetry, microfiction, memoir and more. The story traces a path through depression, addictive behaviours and destructive relationships, seeming to circle back repetitiously but always – sometimes imperceptibly, but always – moving forward. Crosbie wields dark humour, salted with sly, wry but sincerely passionate pop culture references and at times painful self deprecation and loathing. Through grief that is sometimes self inflicted, sometimes simply not fair, she poignantly acknowledges connection with others, even as it fails or is slipping away:

I smiled at her as the snow hit the window and the night darkened into the nights I will miss her, all my life.

She ruefully but doggedly (pun intended, for one of the most enduring relationships that bolsters her throughout …) mines for hope:

In the galaxies that reach out to heaven, my grandmother’s words are converted to stars: We are roses, she said, and must be cut down, sometimes, so that we may grow more beautifully.

By turns fragile and feisty, Crosbie/Crosbie’s heroine drives towards a determined renewal. The litany of woes and abuses is admittedly frustrating and off-putting at points, due in large part because you see the spirit and intelligence there and just want for it to fully emerge and, well, for her to get on with it. You cheer her on her journey and are grateful to her for sharing how arduous it was at times to reach her destination.

See also: Review of Life Is About Losing Everything by Kerry On Can Lit

Thank you to House of Anansi Press for providing a complimentary copy of Life Is About Losing Everything by Lynn Crosbie.

Here are the books I read in 2014, with links to reviews (here on this blog or on Goodreads) where I have them. As I’ve done in previous years, this is an exhaustive, “all of” list, not a “best of” list. (I definitely have “best of” list fatigue this year, more so than usual.)

I continued my commitment in 2014 to a daily devotion to at least one poem … and usually more, as friends on Twitter continued to generously share their poem choices and reflections via the #todayspoem hashtag. Now three years in, I haven’t missed a day, both contributing and enjoying selections from others in this edifying and vital communal experience. I’ve now pondered the works of nearly 650 unique poets, writers, songsmiths and wordsmiths I’ve revisited or unearthed myself, and countless more via others wielding that often revelatory hashtag. On into its fourth year, I’m continuing with my #todayspoem habit every day heading into 2015, and I hope many will continue or join anew.

I also celebrated some more beautifully built books in 2014, including:

• The Children Act, by Ian McEwan
• Correspondences, by Anne Michaels (portraits by Bernice Eisenstein)

The books I read, reread and read aloud in 2014 …

1. All the Rage
   by A.L. Kennedy

2. Life After Life
   by Kate Atkinson

3. A Recipe for Disaster & Other Unlikely Tales of Love
   by Eufemia Fantetti

4. how the gods pour tea
   by Lynn Davies

5. Maidenhead
   by Tamara Faith Berger

6. Crazy Town – The Rob Ford Story
   by Robyn Doolittle

7. The Luminaries
   by Eleanor Catton

8. Prairie Ostrich
   by Tamai Kobayashi

9. Penelope Fitzgerald: A Life
   by Hermione Lee
   (read aloud)

10. Bark
    by Lorrie Moore

11. Waiting for the Man
    by Arjun Basu

12. The Lease
    by Mathew Henderson

13. Grayling
    by Gillian Wigmore

14. Sun Bear
    by Matthew Zapruder

15. Ocean
    by Sue Goyette

16. Cockroach
    by Rawi Hage
    (reviewed for bookgaga by Paul Whelan)

17. Dog Ear
    by Jim Johnstone

18. New Tab
    by Guillaume Morissette

19. Congratulations, by the way
    by George Saunders

20. Based on a True Story
    by Elizabeth Renzetti

21. Americanah
    by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

22. All My Puny Sorrows
    by Miriam Toews

23. The Rise & Fall of Great Powers
    by Tom Rachman

24. Swann
    by Carol Shields
    (reread)

25. Everyone is CO2
    by David James Brock

26. Juliet Was a Surprise
    by Bill Gaston

27. A Girl is a Half-Formed Thing
    by Eimear McBride

28. Elizabeth is Missing
    by Emma Healey

29. The Couch of Willingness
    by Michael Pond & Maureen Palmer

30. Gone Girl
    by Gillian Flynn

31. The Alphabet in the Park
    by Adelia Prado, translated by Ellen Watson

32. In the Approaches
    by Nicola Barker

33. Broom Broom
    by Brecken Hancock

34. Us Conductors
    by Sean Michaels

35. Paradise & Elsewhere
    by Kathy Page

36. [Sharps]
    by Stevie Howell

37. Lila
    by Marilynne Robinson

38. Love Enough
    by Dionne Brand

39. Thunderstruck & Other Stories
    by Elizabeth McCracken

40. Paddy the Wanderer
    by Dianne Haworth
    (read aloud)

41. American Innovations
    by Rivka Galchen

42. The Gallery of Lost Species
    by Nina Berkhout

43. Out of It
    by Michelle Kadarusman

44. Sweetland
    by Michael Crummey

I read 30 works of fiction (novels and short story collections), 9 poetry collections and 5 works of non-fiction.

The 44 works I read this year were written, co-written or translated by 46 individuals – 33 of them women. While I thought the #readwomen2014 effort was an admirable initiative, I didn’t purposely set out to focus or skew my reading in any fashion, but I’m still happy to see that it turned out this way.

Currently in progress, heading into 2015:

• Hard Light
  by Michael Crummey
  (reread)

• Into the Blizzard – Walking the Fields of the Newfoundland Dead
  by Michael Winter
  (read aloud)

Looking back fondly on my 2014 reading, looking forward eagerly and with anticipation to my 2015 reading, I’ll simply conclude (as I’ve done in previous years) …

It’s not how many you read that counts. It’s that you read that counts.