Olivia Everitt

In fiction, I’m drawn to voice-driven novels with an intelligent self-awareness and often, though not always, a gently absurdist humour, such as Leaving the Atocha Station by Ben Lerner, The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen and Big Swiss by Jen Beagin. I enjoy meandering literary fiction with an emphasis on atmosphere and setting, akin to The Weak Spot by Lucie Elven and A Line Made by Walking by Sara Baume, and the economy of phrase perfected by Sarah Moss and Rachel Cusk. I'm a fan of grounded speculative fiction with a light touch, such as The Employees by Olga Ravn and Blue Ticket by Sophie Mackintosh; I also loved the poeticism of The High House by Jessie Greengrass, the most effective climate fiction I’ve read in recent years. I’m not shy of darker or weirder subjects, especially if they’re dealt with in a satisfyingly propulsive way, like The Secret History by Donna Tartt, or the unexpectedly absorbing My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh. My tastes in historical fiction are quite specific, though The Land in Winter by Andrew Miller and The Safe Keep by Yael van der Wouden have been recent standouts, both stunning and memorable. On the more upmarket end, I’m a fan of Claire Lombardo’s rich family stories – especially The Most Fun We Ever Had - that get into the complexities of dynamics between characters, and Barbara Kingsolver’s ambitious Demon Copperhead for its vivid depiction of its protagonist’s inner life.

In non-fiction, my tastes are squarely narrative, and I have a soft spot for the archival: Wayward Lives, Beautiful Experiments by Saidiya Hartman is one of my all-time favourites in this vein. I love a group biography of neglected artists or writers, such as Square Haunting by Francesca Wade, or a previously underappreciated aspect of much-loved figures, such as This Dark Country by Rebecca Birrell. I’ve recently enjoyed Free by Lea Ypi and Children of Radium by Joe Dunthorne, both memoirs seeking to unearth family histories that contradict their inherited stories, deftly mapped onto the broader sociopolitical context with which they grapple. I have a particular interest in food writing, especially that with a theoretical bent such as Small Fires by Rebecca May Johnson, and formally promiscuous non-fiction that blends genres, as Olivia Laing and Maggie Nelson do so expertly; I find an autobiographical element is especially effective here, such as A Flat Place by Noreen Masud, Splinters by Leslie Jamison and Deborah Levy's trio of living autobiographies. (I would also, like most, read a shopping list written by Patrick Radden Keefe.)