Artists once known

2024 Year in Books

Greetings from Sedona, Arizona!

When you read this I’ll be traipsing around the red rocks of Northern Arizona, twirling in a vortex, or getting my aura analyzed. You know, the usual.

After celebrating X-mas in LA, Nuvia and I drove out to Santa Fe, New Mexico, in our trusty electric vehicle. The trip had all kinds of highs and lows that I’ll tell you about in future Messages from the Underworld. Like most of you, I’m looking forward to turning the page on 2024, and I can’t do that until I get the Year in Books out of the way.

It’s one of my favorite posts of the year. It isn’t a best-of list or even a list of my favorite books. It’s just a list of all the books I read in 2024. I read 69 books this year. (Yeah-hey!) If I wrote about a book here in Message from the Underworld, the LA Times, the LA Times Book Club newsletter, or elsewhere, I’ve included a link in the listing. (An (I) after the author’s name indicates an interview.).

2024 was the year of weird Latin American fiction, which I suppose is apropos since we’re on the verge of becoming a weird Latin American country. I returned from Chile in December of 2023 with a long list of books I wanted to read—and not one of them was by Roberto Bolaño. In fact, most of the Latin American books I read in 2024 were written and/or translated by women and nearly all of them were outstanding. These include one of my favorite books of the year, the book that stayed with me the longest, and book that everyone should read right now. Let’s get to it…

Books That Made Me Question the Worthiness of the Human Project
The Obscene Bird of Night by José Donoso, translated by Megan McDowell (I)
The Motel Life by Willy Vlautin
Artists in Times of War and Other Essays by Howard Zinn
Abolition Democracy: Beyond Prisons, Torture, and Empire by Angela Y. Davis

After the election, I stopped watching and reading “the news,” whatever that means at the quarter pole of the 21^st century, and started reading books by deep thinkers from progressive presses. These short books by Howard Zinn and Angela Y. Davis from Verso Books didn’t exactly soothe my fears that America isn’t going off the rails, but convinced me we’ve been off-track for a while. To paraphrase Herbert Marcuse, who was Davis’s mentor at University of California San Diego, America has always been at war, but we only pay attention when we’re the victims. Reading these brilliant reflections on slavery, Civil Rights, and Abu Ghraib was eye-opening and thought provoking, but doesn’t give me much hope for the future. America is an empire and empires fall.

Books That Reaffirmed It
Saint the Terrifying by Joshua Mohr (I)
Headshot by Rita Bullwinkel
Joe Hustle Richard Lange
Death Valley by Melissa Broder
A Horse at Night by Amina Cain

What do these books have in common? Nothing at all. They’re not like their respective authors’ other works. They’re not like anything else you’ll find in the library. They’re outliers that reflect the artist’s commitment to make something true to their vision. In 2024 I was drawn to books where the subtext from the author seemed to be: Fuck it. I’m doing this.

Mohr’s punk rock Viking saga is utterly bonkers and this is just book one of the trilogy. Bullwinkel’s devastating portraits of women boxers is going to win all of the awards. Lange is LA’s laureate of idiosyncratic crime fiction. Broder’s book of desert magic will break your heart. And Cain’s book slender volume on reading, writing, and reading like a writer is a marvel. It’s full of intense observations and probing questions without a whisper of cynicism.

“Is the self what we’ve lived through, what we’ve felt and thought, what we’ve done? Is it what we’ve gone toward or what we haven’t gone toward but have instead intensely imagined? If we are writers or artists, is it what we’ve written or made? Or none of those things?”

What this book is not is a books about craft, or the marketplace, or how to be a reader or writer. It’s not a book that is trying to sell you something. None of these books are. These books are all great examples of what I call Bad Religion’s Rules for Writers, which is just the chorus of “Do What You Want”:

Say what you must, do all you can
Break all the fucking rules and
Go to hell with Superman and
Die like a champion, yeah-hey!

Books about Music & Musicians
Storyteller: Tales of Life and Music by Dave Grohl
Late, Late at Night by Rick Springfield
Living with the Dead: Twenty Years on the Bus with Garcia and the Grateful Dead by Rock Scully
Sonic Life: A Memoir by Thurston Moore (I)
I’m with the Band: Confessions of a Groupie by Pamela Des Barres
Days and Days: A Story about Sunderland’s Leatherface and the Ties That Bind by Chris MacDonald
Punk and Other Four Letter Words by Linda Aronow (I)

I didn’t read many punk rock books this year but I had a lot to say about the music books I read so dig into the archives if you’re so inclined. I didn’t write about Days and Days, because I blurbed it:

Books I Read for Research
Gaudí: The Life of a Visionary by J. Castellar-Gassol
The Last of His Kind: Clayton Kershaw and the Burden of Greatness by Andy McCullough (I)
Shoe Dog: A Memoir by the Creator of Nike by Phil Knight
Worst Case Scenario by T.J. Newman

I read Andy McCullough’s book about Clayton Kershaw and interviewed him for the LA Times Book Club newsletter and despite being right about not counting on Kershaw for a postseason run, the Dodgers went all the way and won the World Series. I have not talked about the Dodgers much here at Message from the Underworld despite the fact that this team brought me an enormous amount of joy in the second half of 2024.

Books by Irish Writers
The Heart in Winter by Kevin Barry

Any year that Kevin Barry puts out a book is a good year, but I’m surprised I didn’t read more Irish writers in 2024. I had high hopes for The Heart in Winter—Barry’s first book set in America—but it didn’t knock me off my feet like The City of Bohane, Beatlebone, and Night Boat to Tangier.

But that’s all right. I’ll listen to it next year—Barry reads his own work and is a gifted reader—and I’m sure I’ll fall in love with his sentences all over again. I’ve already started Rose Keating’s short story collection Oddbody, which comes out in July 2025, and I’m also looking forward to reading Prophet Song by Paul Lynch.

Books That Don’t Rhyme
Sleepwalk by Ingrid M. Calderon-Collins
Crisis Actor: Poems by Declan Ryan
The Story of a Poem: A Memoir by Matthew Zapruder
Miniaturas/Miniatures by Vanessa Torres
Selected Poems by Kenneth Patchen
Blush & Blink by Ana Carrete
Gravity & Spectacle by Shawnte Orion
New York, 1960 by Barry Gifford
Mojave Ghost by Forrest Gander
Rara Avis by Blas Falconer

2024 was a good year for poetry and thanks to Mr. Zapruder, I even jotted down a few of my own, which I won’t share here. You’re welcome.

Books That Make Me Wanna Commit Some Crimes
Lucid America by Aaron Paul Schaut
City in Ruins by Don Winslow
Secret Identity by Alex Segura
Alter Ego by Alex Segura
The Outlier by Elisabeth Eaves
The Blackbird by Richard Stark
Prom Mom by Laura Lippman
The Fever by Megan Abbott
On High at Red Tide by Gabriel Hart

It was a strong year for crime fiction with lots of heavy hitters—Winslow, Segura, Lippman, Abbott and the great Richard Stark—but Gabriel Hart’s psycho saga of drug-addled teens was the dark horse that took me on a death ride to Blackout Beach.

Books That Go Bump in the Night
Woodworm by Layla Martínez translated by Sophie Hughes & Annie McDermott
Horror Movie by Paul Tremblay (I)
Tender Is the Flesh by Augustina Bazterrica translated by Sarah Moses
Fever Dream by Samanta Schweblin translated by Megan McDowell
The Reformatory by Tananarive Due (I)
A Sunny Place for Shady People by Mariana Enríquez by Megan McDowell
Fever House by Keith Rosson (I)
The Devil by Name by Keith Rosson

I read a lot of horror this year and all of it was excellent. You like weird witches? Check out Woodworm. A metafictional horror story about a cursed film? Paul Tremblay’s your guy. An old reformatory haunted by the ghosts of Reconstruction? You must read Tananarive Due. If horror-crime’s your bag then check out Keith Rosson’s shop of occult horrors.

If you’re new to Latin American fiction and don’t know where to start, I recommend Samanta Schweblin’s Fever Dream, a sneaky little mind-fuck that will rattle you to the core while making a powerful statement about the politics of privatization and its impact on the environment.

If you’ve read Enríquez and Bolaño, and want something you can really sink your teeth into, let’s just say Bazterrica’s Tender is the Flesh may make a vegetarian out of you. Of all the books I read this year, it’s the one my mind keeps turning to again and again.

Time Keeps on Slipping…
Garbage In, Gospel Out by Jean-Paul L. Garnier
The Futurological Congress by Stanislaw Lem
A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki
Season of the Swamp by Yuri Herrera
State of Paradise by Laura Van Den Berg
Pink Slime by Fernanda Trías & translated by Heather Cleary
Vanishing World by Sayaka Murata & translated by Ginny Tapley Takemori

Some of these books are set in the past, and some of these are set in the future, but State of Paradise and Pink Slime are pandemic novels and they’re both excellent. (Pink Slime was published in Uruguay in 2020 and was written before the pandemic but nails the feeling.) They both deal with mother-daughter relationships (without being about mother-daughter relationships) and both have a tropical hothouse vibe set in alternate futures, but the similarities end there.

Laura Van Den Berg’s novel is somewhat madcap with nonstop action. Her protagonist is a ghost writer who uncovers a mysterious plot where things—cue the Bernard Herrmann score—are not what they seem. Almost nothing happens in Fernanda Trías’s novel where an algae bloom slowly devours her unnamed locked-down city, but it is such a mood. I’m in awe of the power of both of these novels. They’re the kind of books you want to pick up the phone and talk to someone about them as soon as you’re done.

Books with Pictures in Them
Herd/Stado by Karolina Bielawska

Nuvia and I have a beautiful collection of art books that we keep adding to so there’s no excuse for this poor showing. I’ll start 2025 with this one: We went to an amazing exhibit at the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture in Santa Fe last week called Horizons: Weaving Between the Lines with Diné Textiles and the catalog is even more comprehensive than the exhibit.

One of the things I love about the book and the exhibit is the commentary from contemporary weavers on old textiles. The names of the weavers of many of these old treasures have been lost to time, and are identified as “artist once known.” I love this. It presumes the weavers were once valued contributors to their communities, respected for their knowledge and skill. And that’s the way it should be.

Herd/Stado is a beautiful little art object created by Bored Wolves in Krakow, Poland.

Books That Are Difficult to Classify
The Maniac by Benjamín Labatut
Mother Doll by Katya Apekina
Medusa of the Roses by Navid Sinaki (I)
The Bottom of the Bottle by Georges Simenon

Books with Short Stories in Them
Other Minds and Other Stories by Bennett Sims
McSweeney’s #46: The Latin American Crime Issue
Through the Night Like a Snake: Latin American Horror Stories edited by Sarah Coolidge (I)
Bourbon Penn #31 edited by Erik Secker
Song for the Unraveling of the World: Stories by Brian Evenson
Little Mysteries: Nine Miniature Puzzles to Confuse, Enthrall & Delight by Sara Gran
Nineteen Claws and a Blackbird by Augustina Bazterrica & translated by Sarah Moses

This list makes more sense if you know that I’ve been writing short stories that sit at the intersection of crime and horror. Brian Evenson is a master at it and Sara Gran writes some of the darkest crime fiction you can dream up. I loved Through the Night Like a Snake: Latin American Horror Stories, which was edited by Sarah Coolidge, for its mixture of strangeness, uncertainty, and unpredictable menace.

Books Recommended without Reservation
The Horse by Willy Vlautin
The God of the Woods by Liz Moore

Moore’s sprawling story of missing children at an eclectic summer camp was one of the most propulsive reading experiences I had all year. Vlautin’s tale of a broken-down songwriter at the end of his run moves at a slower pace but the payoff is incredible.

Book That Had the Biggest Impact
Eight Very Bad Nights: A Collection of Hanukkah Noir edited by Tod Goldberg.

In Santa Fe last weekend we were walking through the plaza, which had been decorated with colorful lights, when we spotted a menorah shaped like a giant chile pepper. A rabbi climbed up on a ladder to light the candle and said a few words to the crowd, wishing everyone well and encouraging the crowd to enjoy a latke afterwards, which we did, and it was delicious.

There was a time in my life when I would seen this gathering, thought “This isn’t for me,” and moved on. In order to contribute to this anthology I had to do a little research about the holiday and even then Tod’s note to me was “More Hanukkah!” Then when the galleys came out I read all the stories and was impressed with the skill with which the writers incorporated the holiday into their narratives. While presenting the book I had the opportunity to hear from many of the writers what the holiday meant to them, both as children and now as adults.

I have a deep distrust of organized religion and the way it’s been used throughout history to oppress people. I’ve spent the last week in places where the Spanish forcibly converted indigenous people to Catholicism. I grew up in a house where the conflict between the Catholics and Protestants in Northern Ireland was front and center. Today we’re witnessing the eradication of the Palestinian people under the pretense of security, nationalism, and religion.

Throughout history religion is used as a tool to divide people, to “other” those who aren’t like “us,” to make presumptions about those who are called, chosen, or hand-picked by one god or another. The world would be a better place without it. But when it comes to families, people like you and me, religion can be the weft to the warp that weaves individuals into communities, even when it’s softened into a mostly secular handful of traditions. Let’s not forget it’s often faith-based groups that do the heavy lifting when it comes to the most vulnerable members of society. Who is looking after the hungry, the unsheltered, the addicted? The government? Please.

So while I will never put my faith religion, I believe in the power of communities, and I carry a debt of gratitude to Tod Goldberg and the rest of the writers in Hanukkah Noir for welcoming me into their community of storytellers. It’s ironic that we used noir to bring a little light into a world that suddenly seems very, very dark.

Did you read any of these books? Got a recommendation for me? I want to hear from you. You might even win something.

End-of-Year Book Giveaway

This is the last week to enter the Book Giveaway. All you have to do to entre is 1) become a paid subscriber and/or 2) comment on this post. Winners will be announced next Wednesday.

Oh yeah, Happy New Year.

If you liked this newsletter you might also like my latest novel Make It Stop, or the paperback edition of Corporate Rock Sucks: The Rise & Fall of SST Records, or my book with Bad Religion, or my book with Keith Morris. I have more books and zines for sale here. And if you’ve read all of those, consider checking out my latest collaboration The Witch’s Door and the anthology Eight Very Bad Nights.

Message from the Underworld comes out every Wednesday and is always available for free, but paid subscribers also get my deepest gratitude and Orca Alert! on most Sundays. It’s a weekly round-up of links about art, culture, crime, and killer whales.