Annika A. Culver's 3 favorite reads in 2023

I often read Japanese literature to access different perspectives into modern Japanese society that diverge from news media accounts and the research that I do. Kawakami, whose provocative Breasts and Eggs took on issues rarely discussed in polite Japanese society, has written yet another stunning thriller about the everyday life of a rather ordinary woman. 

Encountering a traumatic encounter in her teen years, the main character in All the Lovers in the Night is plagued by social anxiety and chooses a profession in editing that allows her to be immersed in language and writing.

While obliterated by demanding work finding errors in other writers’ texts as a copy-editor, the intensity of the page allows Fuyuko to avoid people or think about herself. Yet, her editor, Hijiri, consistently invites her out and shows her what life has to offer for unencumbered career women about town. Fuyuko is inspired to emerge from her shell and develops a romantic relationship with a mysterious man upon whom she projects her emotions.

Kawakami provides an intriguing plot twist in the end, leaving readers rooting for Fuyuko and her new future.

I was pleasantly surprised by the empathetic stories Prince Harry shared of his closest relatives.

Especially poignant are portrayals of his father, now King Charles, whose cultural reticence prevented him from directly expressing affection towards his son and showed love in small touches, like notes under pillows and stroking his hair before bedtime after Princess Diana’s horrific accident.

Especially gripping were Prince Harry’s personal reflections when he came to terms with a secondary role to the Throne. Enjoying traditional masculine outdoor pursuits and initiated into hunting by “blooding” in the Scottish Highlands, he decides on a military career which allowed meaningful work while emulating his bodyguard role models.

The Invictus Games reflect this physicality of pushing oneself beyond limits. Ever self-critical, Prince Harry humanly meanders towards adulthood like many young men, whose continuing struggles with paparazzi (labeled “paps”), blamed for killing his mother, initially stymy achieving true happiness.

By the book’s end, we discover a brave man who surpasses tradition to lead in bold new directions—including controversial exposure of his family to a critical public.

I often like to read graphic novels to relax and immerse myself into other worlds. The art on the page is entertaining and can be read in small vignettes in comparison to a full-length film.

Hernandez’s brilliant series reads like a psychedelic telenovela enlivened with elements of punk and surrealism, spanning the gritty streets of Los Angeles, raunchy LA parties, memories of the Central American town of Palomar, and the 1980s and 1990s code-switching world of Latinx southern California. 

A host of individuals from multiple generations hailing from a melange of ethnic, racial, and socioeconomic origins swarm around Luba, the collection’s titular character, and compose her vast span of close, and far, relatives and chosen companions. 

Hernandez inks indomitable characters reflecting the time period, who live boldly and in constant motion, all accompanied by their own soundtrack of garage bands, rancheras, and a host of other tunes.