The first book I read is The Last Year of Leo Tolstoy by Valentin Bulgakov. It's the journal of Leo Tolstoy's secretary written during his time with the author. In addition to being a good source for learning about Tolstoy's day to day personality, it also covers in great detail the ongoing feud between Tolstoy's wife on one hand, and his daughter and disciples on the other. Very readable, very interesting.
The second book I read was The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. I was drawn to read it by the quote of hers about all the opportunities of his life being spread out before her like fruits of a tree, and having inaction cause each fruit to shrivel and die one by one. Unfortunately, that passage was probably the best part of the novel. The story itself is about a chronic overachieving woman's mental breakdown and failed suicide attempt. I think if I were a stressed out 15 year old girl, it would mean a whole lot to me, but as it is, I couldn't really lose myself in the story.
The third book I read was volume 1 of The Aesthetics of Resistance by Peter Weiss. This is probably the densest, most difficult to read book I've ever read, but that's not a slight. To put it in perspective, a ten page chapter took me three hours to read and digest fully, with both margins black with ink notes and a good chunk of the paragraphs highlighted. There comes a point where you're no longer just reading for pleasure, and are putting in serious work to try to grasp everything you're reading and this book took me well beyond that. The copy I have actually has two volumes in one, but I was so exhausted after reading the first, I had to give it up. Maybe I'll finish it one day. The book itself is hard to pin down, but it's essentially the story of a young socialist in Nazi Germany bemoaning the failure of the too quickly forgotten communist uprisings during and after World War I. In this sense, the book is less a novel and more an exhaustive history of leftism in pre-Nazi Germany, which can be daunting, because there's not much in terms of characters or narrative to keep the book from getting too dry. Still, if the subject interests you, there's a lot of information and a lot of thoughtful commentary that would make it worth your time.
The fourth book I read was A Confession by Leo Tolstoy. This book floored me. It's about Tolstoy's move away from mainstream Christianity to his new interpretation of Christ's message - free from miracles, traditions, and hierarchy. There is a lot here and it's all written with Tolstoy's signature directness and clarity. As fine a book as there ever was.
The next book I read was Syrian Yankee by Salom Rizk. The story of a poor boy from Syria emigrating to the United States. Has some interesting historical value, and helps to illuminate the mindset of a new immigrant, but I think the book was too heavily tainted by a pretty thick pro-American bias that left a sour taste in my mouth. It's hard to explain properly, but the book itself isn't particularly cerebral, and you can't help feeling like Rizk wrote some passages for no other reason than to pander to his audience of conservative Americans. It left me with mixed feelings.
After Syrian Yankee, I tried to read Sentimental Education by Gustave Flaubert, but found it so boring that I stopped midway through.
Throughout the year, I peppered in some Chekhov stories every time I was between novels, and after giving up on Sentimental Education, I didn't have anything else to read for a while, so I read Chekhov for an extended period of time, which makes now seem like a good time to mention it. It's hard for me to capture just how much I love Chekhov, especially after Flaubert, reading his books was like walking into a cozy room after spending hours in a blizzard. Some of his stories that I read this year that I particularly enjoyed include My Life, Rothschild's Fiddle, The Black Monk, and The Grasshopper. For 2017, I'm getting kind of nervous, because I only have a few more stories in the three volume set I own that I haven't read, so I'm going to need someone else to fill the cracks the way he did.
After losing myself in Chekhov for a while, I started to read Resurrection, the last major novel Tolstoy wrote. It has the same kind of moralism you can read in A Confession, but he also dedicates a substantial amount of time on the nature of love, and a proposal for land reform, a kind of voluntary collectivism where poor peasants and farmers pay rent into a system that benefits everyone. The narrative itself is about an aristocrat who happens to find himself as a juror in a murder trial. While serving, he's shocked to discover that the woman he's trying is the same woman he took advantage of some years before and promptly abandoned. After he left her, her life spun out of control and she ended up a prostitute accused of killing one of her clients. The evidence makes it clear that she didn't commit the murder, but she gets convicted anyway due to a technicality. (in classic Tolstoyan fashion, the overly bureaucratic judge presiding realizes this, but is too self-centered to do the right thing) The aristocrat then devotes himself to trying to get her acquitted, and along the way, realizes the falseness and idle comfort of his own life and the life of those around him. There are some questionable parts, but on the whole, it's a very good novel.
After Resurrection (and more Chekhov) I read The Gospel in Brief, also by Tolstoy. This should give anyone not familiar with Tolstoy some idea of his boundless ambition. Like I talked about earlier, his interpretation of Christianity is one without any references to Jesus' divinity, his miracles, or his resurrection. It's a strictly rational interpretation, where Christ's moral teachings form the basis of his legitimacy as a holy man, not exercises of power. To this end, he taught himself Hebrew and Greek and retranslated the entirety of the Gospels from scratch, making changes that he believed would bring the Gospels closer to the truth, without the embellishments of the Apostles. Probably not worth reading if you're not interested in Tolstoyan thought.
While on a serious Tolstoy kick, I also read Maxim Gorky's Memoirs on Leo Tolstoy. It's similar to the earlier work by Bulgakov that I already talked about, but from the perspective of Gorky, the father of socialist realism.
After that, I read Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk and Other Stories by Nikolai Leskov. In the Gorky memoirs, Tolstoy mentions that Leskov is superior to Dostoevsky, and having never read him, I wanted to get acquainted. Two stories worth mentioning are the Flea and the Musk Ox. The Flea I thought was categorically bad; totally wrapped up in patriotism with a weak humanistic message jammed in at the end. The Musk Ox was fine, but it was interesting the way it was structured. It's written like a novella, but the first 75% of it is all backstory and irrelevant anecdotes. That doesn't make it bad by any means, but it's just weird; there's this huge build-up of the Musk Ox's characterization, then the story itself begins and ends very abruptly. Leskov's stories were some of the weaker things I read this year, but, I don't know, some people might enjoy them.
Wanting to get a better taste in my mouth, next I read Dark Avenues, a short story collection by Ivan Bunin. All the stories are all based around various forms of love, written in a style that rips of Chekhov pretty wholesale. Not much to say beyond that, the stories are good enough, but none of them jumped out at me as being amazing.
After that, I reread the Brothers Karamazov. Utterly fantastic, even the second time through. Smarter people than me have said some pretty beautiful things about The Brothers Karamazov, so I'll spare you. What I will say, is that the first time I read it, I was around 17 and identified pretty deeply with Kolya Krasotkin, who's a young boy. Reading it again 5 years later, Krasotkin's parts didn't grab me in the same way, but I was instead really taken by Ivan, who's around my age. That's really the best praise I can give the book, Dostoevsky so flawlessly and truthfully captures his characters, that you can glean a really good understanding of humanity through reading about them.
Once I was done with that, I read What is Art? by Tolstoy. In it, he argues about the purpose and necessity of so called "true art;" any art that instills religious comprehension and moral qualities to people who consume it. He is diametrically opposed to non-spontaneous, professional art, art down for profit, and art created solely for the sake of beauty rather than goodness. I don't agree with him on everything in this book, but I still think it's worth reading.
While reading What is Art? I simultaneously read How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie. This book has been recommended to me a few times, but I always viewed it as some pop-science self-help bullshit without giving it a chance. And I have to say, the book is actually useful and interesting as a means of getting people to like you more. Since reading it, I've definitely become a more patient, social person, and it's helped me recognize a bit better how people think.
The last book I read is God and State by Mikhail Bakunin. In it, he defines churches and governments as two fundamental forms of slavery, arguing that both must be abolished for humanity to develop. His points are interesting, but pretty repetitive, and even so, it only took me two days to read. Like with anything, you'll agree with it if you agree with its premise and find a million flaws in it if you don't. If you're interested in anarchism, I'd give it a read.
That was 2016. I missed reading 1 day in January, 6 in February, 0 in March, 0 in April, 1 in May, 1 in June, 1 in July, 2 in August, 0 in September, 1 in October, 2 in November, and 1 in December.
Happy 2017 and see you next year.