Best of 2024
Five members of the Gutter team offer their end-of-year book recommendations
The best anthology I read . . .
In The Back of My Throat, edited by Norman Erikson Pasaribu and Tatevik Sargsyan (Anamot Press)
This multi-form anthology explores the diversity of Queer Indonesian experiences across borders, from the ever-exciting Anamot Press. Despite being just over 50 pages, this anthology delivers a huge amount of thought-provoking imagery and language, and as such it feels like both a celebration of its writers and translators as well as a wonderful primer for the uninitiated into a world very much under-represented in UK-wide literature. As the editors write in the introduction: ‘Racial capitalism is the fish bone in our throat. While desperately trying to spit out these bones, we might wonder, discreetly, “What if I swallow these bones instead? But then, what will happen—to me?”’
Recommended by Sean Wai Keung, poetry reviews editor
The book that made me think again . . .
Pageboy by Elliot Page (Transworld)
I’m not usually one for memoirs, but the recent autobiography of Elliot Page – star of Juno, Inception, The Umbrella Academy – was one of my favourite reads this year. The story of Elliot’s life is presented through the lens of his queerness: in particular his transition, which took place under the watchful, judgemental eye of Hollywood stardom (and attracted as much confused vitriol as you might, sadly, expect). As an enby (non-binary) myself, I was naturally curious to learn more about the actor’s journey, but was pleasantly surprised to find that not only was the book well-written – in a friendly, informally anecdotal way – but that it also gave me pause for thought. Pageboy made me think again about my own experiences of gender dismorphia and my upbringing in a small community like Elliot’s. It instilled in me, as I think it would in any reader, a renewed sense of self-love, self-worth, gentle forgiveness of past unkindnesses (by me, to me) and, best of all, it gave me hope. In a world which can often feel pretty terrifying, especially to those in the queer community, Pageboy reminded me that we’ve the strength and resilience to survive and blossom.
Recommended by Cal Bannerman, production manager
The best poetry collection I read . . .
The Wickedest, by Caleb Femi (HarperCollins)
This past August, I had the pleasure of seeing Caleb Femi speak at the Edinburgh International Book Festival, about a month before his collection The Wickedest was published. The creativity and interdisciplinary place from which he approaches his work left me awestruck – I bought the book immediately after, and was blown away. The Wickedest is a multi-media collection of poetry that takes place at a house party over the course of an evening. There’s a full cast, and we get to learn about each person as the story unfolds. The level of layering and weaving is masterful. It’s a work that is grounded; it feels like a house party I could have heard about from a friend. One does not just read this collection, one lives it. From real life text messages to photos Femi himself took, The Wickedest feels current, and is for anyone trying to simply connect in today’s world. Lyrical, varied, and incredibly tactile, this collection was so much fun to read. I genuinely have not been this excited by a collection in recent memory. I cannot recommend it enough.
Recommended by Olivia Calderón, Guest Reader for Issue #31
The most absorbing novel I read . . .
My Friends by Hisham Matar (Penguin)
There was such tenderness and wisdom in this story of exile, told through the friendships of Khaled, a Libyan man who attends university in Edinburgh, then moves to London. That latter city forms the backdrop to much of the story, in which a real-life shooting in 1984 forms a key turning point, shaping everything that is to come. Matar explores the pull of a home to which one cannot return – both figuratively and, in Khaled’s case, literally. His friends, Mustafa and Hosam, drift in and out of the narrative; the three men and their relationships with each other are changed over time, by events personal and political. And when the revolution finally comes to Libya, their lives diverge in ways that none of them could have predicted. This was a tremendous and memorable novel, worthy of all its many plaudits.
Recommended by Malachy Tallack, managing editor
The best Scottish book I read…
Wraithlands, by Leckie (Bone Chanter)
My favourite Scottish book this year isn't a novel or collection, but something a little different. Darkly whimsical, utterly weird, and really quite angry, Wraithlands is a collaborative storytelling guide which straddles fantasy, horror, eco-fic and sci-fi to provide sharp commentary on Scotland's relationship to its deep history and turbulent present. Once home to communities of witches, otter-folk, druids and more, the island of Nullona now finds itself in the grip of The Underkirk: puritanical demon lairds hell-bent on stripping the land to produce weapons of untold power. Players take on the role of Wraiths, immortal vigilantes-for-hire called upon to intervene in scenarios that can range from petty disputes (goat ownership) and pest control (vinegar goblins), to averting moon-shattering, world-drowning cataclysms. The worldbuilding is as rich as you can get, conjuring mystical glens and munros that remain vivid despite the pervasive damp, environments layered with conflict upon conflict. Bickering pilgrims dodge militias in perilous highland treks to worship capricious saints; disenfranchised crofters tend mismanaged moors across which elites hunt the ghosts of their ancestors; off-coast refineries process nuclear whale-grease and poison the coastal communities who rely on them for work. Often, the challenge presented to players is less a battle of good versus evil, and more a series of ethical puzzles. How best to unionise, despite cultural disagreements? How best to preserve ancient heritage, under threat from an unfeeling modernity? How best to survive and thrive, tethered to the unshakable rule of another?
Recommended by Ryan Vance, designer