I have grown accustomed to revisiting the books read in the past year with a view to selecting a few to recommend. In 2021 I am surprised to discover that I read considerably more than in previous years; maybe the lockdowns and lack of alternatives to reading helped out here. At any event, my list expanded from the norm of two books a week to a grand total of 121. Divisions into types of volume are always a bit hit and miss, but the 121 consisted roughly of 50 novels; 33 non-fiction books on sociology, social theory, philosophy, politics, history, plus a few odds and ends; 15 books devoted to sport (to fuel my latest endeavour (a book on ‘A Critical realist Theory of Sport’); 17 non-sporting autobiographies or biographies; and 6 poetry books (including my own ‘Rhythmic Musings’ – just to check it out you understand!).
There were one or two landmarks. I completed my reading of Trollope’s ‘Palliser’ series for example (having previously read the six volumes of the ‘Barchester Chronicles’). I’ve now read a lot of Trollope: long books particularly perspicacious on character and foibles. I also polished off the ‘Hornblower’ series, which I found surprisingly enjoyable. These are not (just) ‘Boy’s Own’ adventures, but well crafted and detailed accounts of life at sea in the beginning of the nineteenth century. Incidentally, it was Clive James reporting on his re-reading of these that prompted me to give them try. De Beauvoir’s ‘The Inseparables’ was well worth the wait. I also particularly enjoyed Pat Barker’s ‘The Women of Troy’. Others I’d commend are Boschwitz’s ‘The Passenger’, Mina’s ‘Rizzio’ and Steibeck’s ‘The Moon is Down’. Thrillers included Le Carre’s ‘Silverview’ and new books by Leon, Cummins and Herron, all of which I lapped up; but I was acutely disappointed with James Lee Burke’s latest, ‘Another Kind of Eden’, which started well enough but slunk off into a bizarre kind of – dare I say it of one of my favourite writers, ‘silly’ – fantasy.
Of the 15 books on sport, several fed into my own emerging theories. But I was particularly impressed by Eddy Jones’ two contributions: his biography and his later text on leadership. As at least one reviewer has noted, he has surprised people who grew to see him as a ‘straightforward’ if rather blunt rugby autocrat. He comes over as a totally committed yet sensitive and self-questioning coach who is socially as well as psychologically ‘aware’ of worlds outside of international rugby. I enjoyed rereading Dunning and Sheard’s impressive ‘Barbarians, Gentlemen and Players’ and reading Aylwin’s ‘Unholy Union’ and Kitson’s ‘Exe Men’. But then I’ve always followed rugby as a sport and it will be a discrete chapter in my new book. If you haven’t read Michael Holding’s beautifully written ‘Why We Kneel, How We Rise’, do so! Is there a better introduction to the UK and UK sport as institutionally racist projects? I doubt it. It would be on my reading list as a sociologist.
Wagner’s biography of Bauman is impressively researched. I hadn’t realised just how rampant anti-Semitism was/is in Poland. I also read a comprehensive biography of Simenon. Such a great writer but such a flawed human being it seems. I also read a good deal about Donald Soper. If I were ever tempted to have heroes, he would surely be one, notwithstanding my atheism. I used to hear him on Tower Hill and on the radio. The best speaker and debater I’ve ever heard! Finally, I would pick out Pearson’s ‘Why Marianne Faithful Matters’. Having read Marianne Faithful’s autobiographical piece in 2020, I have remained fascinated by her deeply personal, bohemian, penetratingly observant reading of lifestyle construction. Greig’s ‘Breakfast with Lucian’ confirmed my suspicion that ‘toffs’, or those that successfully integrate with them, can get away with being complete bastards (see also Bailey’s autobiography, ‘Look Again’).
As for non-fiction that trespasses on my own fields of enquiry, there were several ‘finds’ in 2021. Greaber and Wingrow’s ‘The Dawn of Everything’ would top many people’s lists of best reads of the year. What did I take from it? Three principal lessons: (a) we shouldn’t read the past by through the lens of the present; (b) empirical heterogeneity poses real challenges of extant ‘periodisations’ of societal development; and (c) there was subtlety and sophistication in many past communities scandalously dismissed as ‘primitive’. But there were other good reads. Alderson’s ‘Critical Realism for Health and Illness Research’ is informative and very well written, as are Bambra and colleagues’ ‘The Unequal Pandemic’, Byrne’s ‘Class After Industry’, Preston and Firth’s challenging ‘Coronavirus, Class and Mutual Aid in the UK’ and Christopher’s superb analysis of ‘Rentier Capitalism’.
I’m sure I’ve omitted books that could and should have got a mention! But I will close by mentioning two volumes written half a century ago, Clift’s ‘Peel Me a Lotus’ and ‘Mermaid Singing’, which I read in that order. For someone who enjoyed visiting the Greek Islands with his beautiful wife and young family, these resurrected many happy memories.
Enjoy your 2022 reading.