Books Read in 2020
By: Juan Barquin
Tags: Lists, Comics, Books, Literature

I am a simple person who always poorly attempts to keep an ongoing log of the books they read throughout the year and always manages to fuck it up somehow. This time, I will simply be listing everything I read this year; some with notes or thoughts attached.

Wonder Woman: Dead Earth

Uzumaki (Junji Ito, 1998–1999) The Drifting Classroom (Kazuo Umezu, 1972–1974) Gunji (Gengoroh Tagame, 2005) Chicago (Fred Ebb, John Kander & Bob Fosse, 1975)

This was an especially fun one, for a group performance of Chicago for Kyle Turner’s birthday in which I played Velma Kelly and he was Roxie Hart. One of the most delightful events of my year that came pre-COVID (and was paired with the experience of us going to Company and Sleep No More together, which was great and something I miss a whole lot). Chobits (CLAMP, 2000–2002)

Revisiting this manga was incredibly rewarding; a beautiful exploration of the bond that exists between humans and artificially intelligent beings. Gorgeous sci-fi in the same vein as Spielberg’s AI. From Hell (Alan Moore & Eddie Campbell, 1989–1998)

Maybe the greatest graphic novel ever made. Speculative historical fiction at its best. Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle (CLAMP, 2003–2009) xxxHolic (CLAMP, 2003–2016) Cardcaptor Sakura (CLAMP, 1996–2000) In A Lonely Place (Dorothy Hughes, 1947) Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure: Phantom Blood (1987) Megahex (Simon Hanselmann, 2014) Meg and Mogg In Amsterdam (Simon Hanselmann, 2016) Megahex: One More Year (Simon Hanselmann, 2017) Erotism: Death and Sensuality (Georges Bataille, 1957)

This one was prompted in part by a large piece I was working on this summer about contemporary erotic thrillers, specifically in how French cinema seems to currently have a hold on the genre and how it was distinctly inspired by American cinema of the past (from the 50s to the 90s). Honestly kind of a perfect guide to the link between death and sensuality, which is something I’m deeply fascinated by in art. Story of the Eye (Georges Bataille, 1928)

Okay, so I just enjoy reading porn and indulging in all sorts of fetishistic oddities. Can’t wait to jump on some de Sade down the road. The Erotic Thriller in Contemporary Cinema (Linda Ruth Williams, 2005)

Same as the above excuse, re: building my paper. Would wholeheartedly recommend this to anyone interested in the subgenre and its history up to the late 90s and early 2000s, or even just for the interviews with certain filmmakers on their works. Visual Pleasure in the Narrative Cinema (Laura Mulvey, 1975) Books of Blood: Volume One (Clive Barker, 1984)

Clive Barker really is one of the best queer writers around and “In the Hills, the Cities” may be one of the best short stories ever written. Wuthering Heights (Emily Brontë, 1847) Pride & Prejudice (Jane Austen, 1813) Death in Her Hands (Otessa Moshfegh, 2020)

A great exploration of how resentment builds over years and manifests in unexpected ways, as well as how we project internal narratives onto ourselves and those around us in incredibly damaging ways. Jia Tolentino said it best when she wrote, “Ottessa Moshfegh is easily the most interesting contemporary American writer on the subject of being alive when being alive feels terrible.” I can’t explain how comforting I find her protagonists and the awful things they think and do. Moshfegh does stream of consciousness writing so well, allowing the audience to settle in with the narrator in this book and revealing page after page just how unreliable and lost she is in a really interesting way. The unraveling of a mind, regrets bubbling up to the surface. Not surprised at how many reader reviews complain about the rambling text, an “unlikable” protag, and lack of “actual mystery”. You can’t quite call Moshfegh’s characters “antiheroes” but their flaws and choices, both mistaken and intentional, are what make them so fascinating. No One Belongs Here More Than You (Miranda July, 2007)

Not every story hits, but I find a lot of them very comforting and I think it’s a testament to how intimate and oddly moving July’s writing is that I can vividly imagine everything in here despite it not being accompanied by the images I’m accustomed to seeing from her. Yugioh (Kazuki Takahashi, 1996–2004)

Yes, I read through basically every main narrative Yugioh manga this year. Please do not judge me. Or go ahead. I don’t really care. Yugioh Duelist (Kazuki Takahashi, 1996–2004) Yugioh R (Kazuki Takahashi, 1996–2004) Yugioh: Millennium World (Kazuki Takahashi, 1996–2004) The Old Guard: Book One (Greg Rucka & Leandro Fernandez, 2017) Nimona (Noelle Stevenson, 2012–2014) Slave Play (2018)

Deeply heartbroken I never got to see this play live because the script itself is just fascinating and exciting in a way that I can’t even begin to imagine live. Commute: An Illustrated Memoir of Female Shame (Erin Williams, 2019) Camgirl (Isa Mazzei, 2019) Random Acts of Violence (Justin Gray & Jimmy Palmiotti, 2010) What Belongs To You (Garth Greenwell, 2016) You Should Have Left (Daniel Kehlmann, 2017)

Gotta say, for as breezy as this was, it was kind of a disappointment that feels like it’s desperate to be an interesting and original work while sort of just being a sort of House of Leaves knock-off for the airport paperback crowd with absolutely nothing to say. Are Snakes Necessary? (Brian De Palma, 2019)

Not an especially good book, but it is a fun one for people who enjoy Brian De Palma’s films — pretty much perfectly in tune with the filmmaker he is and the themes he explores. BDP and Lehman’s descriptions are sometimes laughable, but that’s in tune with the trashy crime they’re peddling and the trashy crime he’s always been fond of. I mean, they literally use a remake of Vertigo as a plot point. I’d say maybe avoid the synopsis on the book itself because it pretty much tells you 75% of the story off-hand for some reason. What you need to know is that this book is basically about hot dumb people doing dumb things, taking lots of photos and videos of each other, lying to each other, fucking each other, killing each other, and, also, there’s American politics and filmmaking involved. Seven Methods of Killing Kylie Jenner (Rajha Shakiry, 2019)

I can flat out say I never expected to read an entire play that melded its script with GIFs and Twitter threads and tried to specifically explore how these repetitive images have turned into our new lexicon, and how reactive we can be online, especially when on that demonic app we all hate but continue to navigate. The Adventures of Captain Underpants (Dav Pilkey, 1997)

Okay, can I just say? These books are still delightful and a great way to get folks back into the groove of reading by mixing comics and kid lit together in an ideal way. Captain Underpants and the Attack of the Talking Toilets (Dav Pilkey, 1999) Captain Underpants and the Invasion of the Incredibly Naughty Cafeteria Ladies from Outer Space (and the Subsequent Assault of the Equally-Evil Lunchroom Zombie Nerds) (Dav Pilkey, 1999) Captain Underpants and the Perilous Plot of Professor Poopypants (Dav Pilkey, 2000) The Continuous Katherine Mortenhoe (D.G. Compton, 1974) Windward Heights (Maryse Condé, 1995) This World is Full of Monsters (Jeff VanderMeer, 2017) A Peculiar Peril (Jeff VanderMeer, 2020)

I interviewed Jeff VanderMeer this year so here’s that. Glamour Boutique (Torrey Peters, 2017)

God, I can’t fucking wait for Detransition, Baby. The Masker (Torrey Peters, 2016) Infect Your Friends and Loved Ones (Torrey Peters, 2016) Jane Eyre (Charlotte Brontë, 1847) Kingdom Keepers: Disney After Dark (Ridley Pearson, 2005)

This was an interesting revisit for me because, as a Disney Kid and a Florida Kid, I would very keyed into the parks and really loved sort of existing in that world and knowing it well (and, while I have a deep resentment for Disney Gays, I low key adore those parks and would happily go once a year if possible and drag my friends for fun even though they betrayed me by closing The Great Movie Ride) and I’ve gotta say: this is somehow infinitely less grating to me than, say, Ready Player One. Yes, it’s a little annoying and typical of a YA book, and yes it is designed to be reference heavy while also explaining it’s references, but there’s something kind of fun to me about the things it imagines. The Earthquake Room (Davey Davis, 2017)

Really adored the intimacy with which this was written. Can honestly say it was like living inside of the heads of these characters, with all their flaws and frustrations and foolish decisions, for a brief but important period of time in their lives. Kingdom Keepers II: Disney at Dawn (Ridley Pearson, 2008) The Legend of Wonder Woman (Renae de Liz & Ray Dillon, 2016) Wonder Woman: Dead Earth (Daniel Warren Johnson, 2019–2020)

I have to say that, after being so immensely disappointed in Wonder Woman 1984 (which I think misconstrues everything I love about Diana as a character and, outside of that, doesn’t work in the slightest as a movie), I was really taken by this study of Diana within a post-apocalyptic landscape. Where a lot of recent comic approaches lean into being extra gritty (or, on the opposite end, too frivolous, which only works for some figures), I was pleasantly surprised at how much there was a sentimental core beneath all of the brutality and monstrosity that existed in Dead Earth’s pages. Daniel Warren Johnson doesn’t just understand Diana as a character; he’s interested in exploring her relationships with her mother (the way this comic paints Hippolyta as both creator and destroyer is fascinating), her friends (minor but honest depictions of both Clark and Bruce are present here that highlight their willingness to hope for the best in others), her enemies (probably one of the most interesting depictions of Barbara’s relationship to Diana ever put to paper), and with humanity as a whole (which is the crux of DWJ’s entire comic), with more nuance than I’ve seen in a limited series about her before. It is heavy, but beautiful. I look forward to revisiting it. Wonder Woman: Tempest Tossed (Laurie Halse Anderson & Leila Del Duca, 2020) Crisis Zone (Simon Hanselmann, 2020)

I would like to recommend Simon Hanselmann’s Instagram posts throughout the entirety of quarantine, which has been one of the wildest pieces of narrative storytelling in 2020 that references every political and cultural event that has made headlines this year (done between March 13th and December 22nd).

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Now excuse me while I go play video games for the rest of this year while having an existential crisis about what I’m doing with my life after graduating.