In each monthly newsletter, I often share and recommend what I’m reading, watching, listening to and/or playing at the time. For those who aren’t newsletter subscribers (and you should fix that real fast), I’ve compiled a short list of some of the stuff I found notable this year.

This is not an exhaustive list, obviously. This is also not a “best of” list (in fact, some of the stuff mentioned here, I may not even recommend, or revisit). This is simply a list of stuff I found “notable” because they stayed with me in some way. Enjoy!

• Notable reads (11)

• Notable listens (4)

• Notable watches (8)

• Notable finds (1)

NB: Quotes are direct reprints of previous commentary from my newsletter.

📖 Notable Reads (11)

• Dazzling by Chịkọdịlị Emelụmadụ: Started the year out with this one. If I was to situate Dazzling in the literary canon, I’d say it read (to me) like if Chukwuemeka Ike wrote through a feminist lens. I called this “polyphonic, unsettling, witty, markedly Nigerian”—and each of these expressions aptly describes the novel. I’ve read quite a bit of Emelụmadụ’s work, and this fit squarely in her canon of outcast characters dipped in surreality or wildness, and sometimes both. More in this vein: “Bush Baby”.

• The Hundred Years’ War on Palestine by Rashid Khalidi: Amongst the various texts I read on the history of Palestine, a subject which reignited global awareness (and particularly captured North American consciousness) in the past year and half, this was the text that offered, to me, the longest view. On this subject, the long view is of utmost importance, seeing as the short view (and a continuous investment in it) does an injustice to the subject. More in this vein: Minor Detail by Adania Shibli (a completely different type of book; one that captures the mundanity of lived experience under occupation in a way the history books never quite can).

• Chain Gang All Stars by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah: There are many examples of authors writing science fiction but refusing to call it that. This book does not not disrespect its science fiction roots. It does not pretend to be something other than a technofeudal American dystopia. Rather, it presents the question I love most to ask: dystopia for whom? Better yet, it treats its worldbuilding with respect, all the while never neglecting the social commentary the book rests upon. “Prisoners as gladiators” is not exactly an unimaginable prospect (we’re already seeing staged bouts between celebrities, CEOs, influencers, etc), but the way that’s both starting point and anchor for the narrative is what sets the novel apart. It exhausts every opportunity to shine a light on how America functions as a nation, how said nation treats those it considers undesirables, and how that treatment is not a bug, but a national feature, character and pastime. More in this vein: I’m yet to think of something out there that does what Nana Kwame does with this one. If you do, let me know.

• The School for Good Mothers by Jessamine Chan: Much of this book resonated with me, I’ll admit, because I’d just become a new parent myself and could recognize some of the challenges that kickstarted Frida’s tenure at the aforementioned school. However, what Chan does is lift the veil on parenthood and present its uncomfortable underbelly—its forced performances, false starts, false hopes, and most of all, the state interjections that not only make it harder for women to be the best mothers they can be, but worsens the conditions of parenthood altogether. Funny, poignant, instrospective. Do not be swayed by that title. This book may centre mothers, but it’s a book for everyone. More in this vein: Nightbitch by Rachel Yoder, or any Mona Awad novel.

• Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin: It made sense that this was Zevin’s tenth novel—it was a book only someone who’d written various novel-length works (and screenplays) could’ve written. It was quite good at what it did, and took time to unfurl itself on the character and narrative structure levels. Some bold narrative and stylistic choices in the latter half that didn’t necessarily land for me, but I admired the risk taken regardless. More in this vein: Pachinko by Min Jin Lee

• Helpmeet by Naben Ruthnum: “Contains some of the most grotesque descriptions of bodily fluids that I’ve ever encountered in literature, and I (guiltily) love it. Naben describes gore so beautifully. It’s tough being in the medical field, isn’t it? Especially if it's the 1900s and your husband is slowly decaying like a rotting banana.” More in this vein: The Grimmer, Naben’s YA novel about monsters.

• Rental House by Weike Wang: Read an advanced copy of this over on holiday. In my newsletter, I said it was “a book that kinda starts and ends at middle points, but in a way that's completely sensible. I love how it interrogates a marital relationship turning slightly sour, kickstarted without any big bang, but rather the slow deterioration that any relationship subject to uncontrollable external pressures tends to eventually suffer.” More in this vein: Chemistry and Joan is Okay, Wang’s previous novels.

• A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine: I’m glad I read this after it won the Hugo Award, because I could immediately see why it did. One may think that AMCE offers, narratively, standard sci-fi fare (tales of ambassadors to planets go as far back as LeGuin’s The Left Hand of Darkeness), but one would be wrong. The intersections of various levels of access and privilege here set this apart: who ambassador Mahit is, where she is from (and why she’s from there), why she is here in this planet-city, what the conditions of each new circumstance she finds herself in are (often complicated by said conditions being completely unknown to the reader, Mahit herself, and sometimes even her rivals). It’s The Diplomat if the diplomacy was between colonizer and colonized, and the colonial force was more a living, breathing systemic entity than a simple manner of operation. Better yet, it’s a murder mystery, and the sleuth is a smart diplomat who is out of her depth. Standard sci-fi fare my butt. More in this vein: A Desolation Called Peace, second in the series.

• Mirrored Heavens by Rebecca Roanhorse: “This may be the first time I’m reading a complete epic fantasy series since Jemisin’s Broken Earth and Fonda Lee’s Green Bone Saga. And a worthy series at that, with a worthy conclusion of a book.” More in this vein: Black Sun and Fevered Star, first two in the series.

• Nearly All the Men in Lagos Are Mad by Damilare Kuku: Last long read of the year. I only later learned that this book was polarizing, which was both unsurprising (said polarity emerged from predominantly conservative and/or misogynist spaces) and surprising (there is little particularly novel about the subjects the book tackles). I thought the stories in this collection sat well within the canon of indigenous Nigerian narrative styles (whether we’re talking gossip-as-narrative, of which I’m a huge fan, or works in other media e.g. millennial-era comics in the vein of Ikebe Super and Papa Ajasco & Company). The subjects are also par for the course: texts like various ‘70s literature about cities (Cyprian Ekwensi’s Lokotown and Jagua Nana come to mind, as do various “Onitsha market literatures”) and the ubiquitous treatments in Nollywood film & TV. What I think is notable about this collection is how it (1) brings this genre of literature to a contemporary mainstream audience; and (2) situates its ideas squarely within the concerns of today’s Lagosian. And for those complaining about the number of sex scenes in the book: grow up. More in this vein: Lokotown & Other Stories by Cyprian Ekwensi

• “Whither Queer? The Genre at Midlife and a Rec List” by Kai Ashante Wilson: Rarely would I add shorter texts to this list, but I think this piece deserves to be read by all who find these subjects to be of interest, because I consider it a prime example of (1) how to write about complex subjects with competing points of opinion and interest; (2) how to write a recommendations list; and (3) how to write about literature in general.

🎧 Notable Listens (4)

• Tested by Rose Eveleth: “I’ve followed Eveleth’s work since Flash Forward, so was glad to learn of this podcast from their Bluesky posts. It follows the fates of DSD-disqualified athletes (DSD = the medical term “differences in sex development”) like Christine Mboma, Maximila Imali and Caster Semenya. Thoroughly educative, effectively humanizing, sufficiently enraging.”

• Reckon: True Stories with Deesha Philyaw & Kiese Laymon: “These two excellent authors and long-time friends discuss essays as a literary form, though I found that this podcast offered something else too: a window into their conversations with various authors who have carried them (Roxane Gay, Alexander Chee, Samantha Irby, etc) and those whom they've carried in turn.”

• Han Kang: “The latest Nobel Prize for Literature winner, back in 2019, conducted an interview on The Horror of Humanity that I think is not only resonant for our current timeline, but representative of her response to winning the prize (“Please don't celebrate while witnessing these tragic events”).”

• Ta-Nehisi Coates: “Now that the engineered brouhaha over Coates’s The Message has died down, I’ve spent time listening to earlier instances of him speaking. I’ve particularly enjoyed his episode on the podcast Notes on a Native Son: Notes on James Baldwin’s Words.”

📺 Notable Watches (8)

• SLOW HORSES S4: “What to say? I typically don't enjoy British spy shows (or spy shows in general), but for some reason, Slow Horses hits different. Perhaps because it's short, doesn't faff about trying to be some deep drama (rather, it’s funnier than I expected). Perhaps because it's less about hypercompetent spies and more about the fuckups, making it an underdog story. But I think it's because the acting is very good (I mean, Gary Oldman, hello), the spies are otherwise very ordinary, and their personal (life) and interpersonal (work) dramas are quite interesting and amusing. 10/10 would recommend, seasons 1 through 4.”

• SHOGUN S1: I was late to watching this, but I found it quite fascinating for various reasons. Less for the period drama, more for the way the liminal space between linguistic differences and translations is employed as a zone within which tension and conflict may be amped up. It’s equally fascinating that the viewer, via subtitles, has translations that other characters in the story do not have, making the viewer complicit in the actions. It made me wonder how such material may be represented in literary form (I’ll be interested in hearing from anyone who’s experienced this in text).

• WE ARE LADY PARTS S2: I’ve been waiting for this second season from Nida Manzoor for years (munching on her Polite Society as a holdover in the interim), and when it finally arrived, it did not disappoint. It was interesting how much more headon it tackled various very challenging and tricky subjects without getting too bogged down by them, or letting them define the show. Rather, the show retains its signature tongue-in-cheek wit and charm throughout, and every song is a banger as usual (new faves include “Glass Ceiling Feeling” and “Villain Era”; old faves remain “Bashir with the Good Beard”, “Voldemort Under My Headscarf” and “Fish & Chips”). Better yet, the tables are flipped: Amina finally catches a break with some good adventures along the way, while it’s her bandmates who have to grapple with their personal demons this time. Bring on season 3.

• KAOS S1: “Celestis, divinitus, insania, vero. Who in their right mind thought to cancel this show, and rid the world of the opportunity to witness more of this joy? A pox on them. Vero. We need more shows like this. How to describe it? Greek pantheon tragedy reimagined as modern saga is insufficient to capture its breadth & hidden parts. Zany, funny, chewy. Vero. Jeff Goldblum as Zeus? David Thewlis as Hades? Gods be praised. Vero.”

• SUPACELL S1: Wole Talabi once described this as Heroes meets Top Boy and I think that aptly encompasses this show (I thought of it more as a cousin to Attack the Block than Top Boy, but the Heroes comp is dead on). I was quite glad to see the return of some faves to new TV, like Adelayo Adedayo (who I loved in Some Girls) and Josh Tedeku (who I loved in Boarders). It’s not a show without its flaws, but it’s one of those that its simple existence is more than enough. Love to see more in the vein of it (and in other media too, like sci-fi thriller novel The Upper World by Femi Fadugba, set in Peckham).

• LOVE LIES BLEEDING: I find it stranger that it took any filmmaker so long to say the words “Kristen Stewart and Katy O'Brian” than that the response from this film’s viewership has been an unequivocal “OMG, yes!”. Both actors are exceptionally good in this nod to ‘80s/‘90s bodybuilding culture (I really can’t believe I’m out here praising Kristen Stewart, but if I’m being honest, she’s earned her flowers, here and elsewhere). On a narrative level, I thought the film left a lot to be desired, but on a character and filmmaking level, this was a hoot. (I would really love for there not to be guns in every film, America, and this was one of those films that could’ve done without one.)

• THE SUBSTANCE: One of those films that feels like it could be many different films in a trenchcoat, for better or worse. I found aspects of it fascinating and intriguing (the layers of commentary between the body horror and the social gaze on the female body is well executed), others puzzling or implausible (it’s unclear what Elisabeth gains from the arrangement with her doppleganger, for instance, or how a completely separate person can, say, use a celebrity’s bank account without getting flagged). Generally I was ambivalent, yet I think The Substance managed to pierce the increasingly homogenous contemporary film offerings because it dares to be bold and wear its influences on its sleeve. I might not watch this film ever again, but I will remember it.

• KNEECAP: Two delinquents in Belfast, aided by a music school teacher, start an Irish hip hop rap band: the true life story of the Northern Irish band Kneecap, with the real-life band members playing themselves. Simple, on the face of it, but this film offered much more than I’d first through. With its somethings brethless pacing and hallucinatory cinematography, I thought of it as a bit of an “Irish Trainspotting for the GenZ crowd”, only instead of Ewan McGregor we get Michael Fassbender (who plays a rogue dad).

Old friends:

ABBOTT ELEMENTARY S4 | WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS S6 | STAR TREK: LOWER DECKS S3 | SILO S2 | MAN LIKE MOBEEN S4 | INDUSTRY S3

Great finds:

ANATOMY OF A FALL | TRUE DETECTIVE: NIGHT COUNTRY | MIRACLE WORKERS S1-4

Notable Finds (1)

• Denver Botanic Gardens: Rarely does something that lives on socials give me zen rather than anxiety, but chancing upon the Instagram account of this nonprofit botanic gardens in Denver changed that instantly. It’s the only account right now whose page causes me to stop in my tracks. It’s not just because they’re fun (and funny) nerds who obviously really love their jobs, or that the acting/cinematography for their skits is both lofi and stupendously good. I think it’s mostly because none of it feels staged (even when acted) or fake (even when it’s obviously a performance), but rather, reads as earnest, honest and truly educational for educational purposes (not for views & engagement). In a sea of performance, Denver Botanic Gardens somehow feels like one of the realest things out there. I’m sure it helps, though, that I get to see a bunch of cool plants and animals.