A Year in Reading: Adam Dalva
Impossible, I’ve worried since this assignment came in, to write a Year in Reading about a grief-filled time in which reading for pleasure was often impossible. Months of the year are a recursive fog with no memory formation whatsoever. But 2022 was also a year where, paradoxically, reading was the best escape I found.
I spent a month writing my novel at the Hawthornden Residency in Scotland, where I read, among other things, ’s , which is a challenging, brilliant work, maybe my favorite of the year (’s translation is brilliant as well). No talking is allowed in the castle during daytime, and there was unlimited coffee and small biscuits, and I sat for hours in an overstuffed armchair marveling at the formal shape of the tome,—is imprisoned in a monastery. I was simultaneously reading ’s , a bizarre 1796 Gothic misadventure, for my book club, and the parallels between the two works and my environment set me a bit dreamy. One morning, I learned that had been a visitor to the castle, and that she’d likely sat where I was sitting with the Tocarczuk. In homage, I read , which is hilarious and weird and my sixth favorite Iris Murdoch novel, which makes it one of the best books I’ve ever read. (Updated tentative Iris ranking 1. 2. 3. .
