Everyone had distinct experiences in 2019, and The Michigan Daily Book Review has put together
the best works it experienced throughout the year. Accounting for the differences in everyone’s 2019
experiences, these works range from novels to poetry collections to graphic novels and come from
authors originating from Ohio to Ukraine. Enjoy.
— Andrew Pluta, Daily Book Review Editor
“Deaf Republic” by Ilya Kaminsky
The deaf republic in Ilya Kaminsky’s poetry collection of the same name is not collectively hard-
of-hearing; its citizens are deaf by choice. They are living in a fictional, seemingly Soviet-era town
under harsh military rule. In protest of a sergeant’s shooting of a young boy, they refuse to hear the
soldiers’ commands, existing in silence instead. Kaminsky, who lost most of his hearing at age four,
not only shatters our conception of deafness, but our hearts, too, at the heights cruelty and sacrifice
reach under oppressive regimes. He also shatters our illusions of what civic responsibility and
political protest mean, and all — most notably — without making speeches, or filling the emptiness
with sheer noise.
He does so more inventively than any writer in recent memory. “Deaf Republic” could be described
as a play in verse, straddling the genres with elegance. On various pages, illustrations of hands
signing a word in the townspeople’s improvised sign language accompany the text, taking up the
same protest as the citizens of the story. In one of the most unexpected elements from the collection
(which, as you can see, is saying a lot), Kaminsky makes brilliant use of puppets, as the townspeople
put on shows to satirize the absurdity of their oppressed lives.
“At the trial of God, we will ask: why did you allow all this? / And the answer will be an echo: why
did you allow all this?” Kaminsky writes, in one of his most resonant lines. You can hear a similar
echo at the conclusion of Kaminsky’s work, when he shifts into the present-day United States where
he now lives, and indicts our passivity toward the police killings taking place on our own soil, day
in, day out. It’s literature that doesn’t exempt you from its implications — the best, most urgent kind.
— Julianna Morano, Managing Arts Editor
“Ohio” by Stephen Markely
The continental Midwest is a landscape so bleak and sore that it’s usually difficult to write about
— in most fiction it’s a place to escape from, or else it’s just plain depressing (think Eugenides,
Franzen). In “Ohio,” Stephen Markley understands that this is the Midwest, with all of its blandness
and forgotten-America rust. He doesn’t shy away from it. He doesn’t gloss over the dirty parts.
Rather, he centers his entire novel on the dim Midwest — in this case, New Canaan, Ohio — and lets
it live for itself. Ohio isn’t such a setting or a title. It’s the very lifeline of Markley’s freshman novel,
sewn deep into the gut of every character and propelling every action taken.
“Ohio” is most striking for its capacity to capture agrestic, patriotic small-town America not in
a single frame, but in an evolving, cinema-like fashion. The story feels encompassing, spanning
decades of social change and decline while feeling dangerously fresh. Markely writes both accurately
and unabashedly about the crisis of identity and social immobility facing places like New Canaan,
though not in a manner that feels moralizing. The books themes are never overwrought. Instead,
“Ohio” is merely a depiction: a raw, thrilling exposition of what much of America looks like, thinks
and talks about; and at times, it is a tale that sickens more than it remedies.
— John Decker, Managing Arts Editor
“Normal People” by Sally Rooney
“Normal People” proves Sally Rooney is not a one-hit-wonder with “Conversations With Friends.”
Rooney extends the psychological undertone of “Conversation With Friends” until it reaches that
precarious line of discomfort in “Normal People.” On the surface, “Normal People” tells a simple
romance between two people with diverging socio-economic classes. Marianne is an intensely
private girl, unpopular among her classmates but from an affluent background. Conner is the
complete opposite — popular and handsome but struggling to get by. Somewhat embarrassed by
Marianne, Conner conceals their romance from their classmates. Conner’s selfish decision as a high-
schooler sparks the deeply complex relationship with Marianne that prevails until the very end of
the novel. “Normal People” is the perfect romance novel for people that hate romance. “Normal
People’s” introduction seems familiar enough: boy meets girl, boy and girl have a conflict. But
Rooney quickly subverts the traditional plotline with her emphasis on the various obstacles outside
Conner and Marianne’s bubble, making it impossible to foresee the customary “happily-ever-after”
ending. Rooney’s subtle Marxist and feminist critique and ability to capture the imperfections of
the human psyche allow “Normal People” to break the boundaries of “romance” and fill the space
of brilliance. While it’s hard to idealize Marianne and Conner, their aptly human flaws make it easy
to fall in love with them. Nearly a year later, I find my thoughts veering to “Normal People” and the
ways that I, too, am a flawed human.
—Sarah Salman, Daily Arts Writer
“Fix Her Up (Hot & Hammered)” by Tessa Bailey
Delightfully steamy and funny, Tessa Bailey’s “Fix Her Up” is the perfect novel to read if you
need a palette cleanser. “Fix Her Up” follows two characters, Georgette Castle and Travis Ford.
Georgette Castle has harbored a deeply intense crush on Travis Ford since, well, forever. Travis
Ford, meanwhile, has always viewed her as his best friend’s little sister: someone to look after, but
not someone to develop feelings for per se. While Georgette has been rooted in her small-town
of Port Jefferson with her career as a clown, Travis Ford has been revered all over the nation as
major league baseball’s hottest rookie. That is, until, Travis gets injured. As their paths collide,
Georgette gradually realizes that she must take control of her future, whether it be by standing up
to her dismissive family or by wooing Travis. Travis also recognizes that his self-worth is not merely
his prematurely halted baseball career and that the people who were truly most important to him
might’ve been under his nose all along. Bailey’s “Fix Her Up” includes plenty of romantic staples,
including a heady scene with the “other woman” and the “innocent” heroine with the prolific playboy,
but those tropes are handled with care. Bailey thoughtfully resolves angsty misunderstandings with
communication and even subverts the common idealization of the “playboy” hero by addressing
society’s constraining concept of masculinity. “Fix Her Up” has the ability to yoke a myriad of
emotions, tears, laughter and those elusive twinges of “it-hurts-so-good!” It’s not just a chick-lit,
but a funny, romantic and deeply touching novel about discovering your full-potential, independent
from anyone else.
—Sarah Salman, Daily Arts Writer
“The Crying Book” by Heather Cristle
I love crying. It’s one of my top three favorite physical activities. So when the Goodreads algorithm
suggested this book to me, I grew a little nervous about exactly how closely the FBI agent living
inside of my computer has been paying attention lately. But regardless of how this book fell into my
hands, it quickly became one of my all-time favorites.
Heather Cristle is a poet who is also a self-proclaimed crying enthusiast. In “The Crying Book,”
she explores tears and the role they fill in gender, history, race and art. Part memoir, part historical
and cultural analysis, this novel touches on subjects that are personal to Cristle — suicide, pregnancy,
depression — and also universal. The way she unfurls her prose is slow, interweaving and, much like
the act of crying, left me feeling vulnerable and gutted in the best way. The ideas she explores in
her novel are presented in such palpable and beautiful terms that I can remember where I was and
what I was doing when I was reading any part of the novel. I read about how Cristle delved into the
world of Amazon reviews for crying plastic dolls while eating a solitary dinner in the Whole Foods
food court. I bookmarked a passage describing the way tears look in the absence of gravity as I
absentmindedly stroked my cat’s head, right on the bald spot between his eyes.
If you have ever cried at least once in the span of your entire life, this book is also for you.
—Jo Chang, Senior Arts Editor
“Sabrina” by Nick Drnaso
There is something unsettling about the artwork in Nick Drnaso’s graphic novel “Sabrina,” which
follows the aftermath of the disappearance and anonymous murder of the titular young woman. It
strays from the use of bright colors and details, opting for simple geometric figures and a muted color
palette that is reminiscent of a coloring book for a child with a limited range of drawing utensils.
Characters mill around with facial expressions devoid of much personalization and feeling — even
during the most morbid scenes, the characters’ simple facial expressions reveal nothing about the
terror behind them. For a novel that explores brutal violence, misogyny and isolation, this over-
simplicity and lack of visible human emotions creates an atmosphere that is deeply unsettling. The
effect is something similar to being the object of the steady gaze of a wild animal or, say, a small
child, and not knowing exactly when they plan on springing upon you with unrepressed fury — but
living in constant dread knowing that something horrible is coming, wondering not if but when.
“Sabrina” will leave you feeling uncomfortable and disturbed, but also in awe of the way Nick
Drnaso is able to capture the essence of loss and pose a commentary
on human interactions in the modern world so subtly and succinctly.
—Jo Chang, Books Senior Arts Editor
This 2019 awards race might have one of the most crowded
acting fields in recent years. Last year delivered so many impressive
performances that many of them were either snubbed from
nominations or will lose to someone we find unfavorable. So here, we
did our best to highlight the best performances of 2019. (They’re all
more compelling than Joaquin Phoenix in “Joker,” so feel free to turn
off the TV when he accepts his Oscar.)
Best Actresses
1. Florence Pugh: “Little Women”
In Gillian Armstrong’s adaptation of “Little Women” — which
was my introduction to Louisa May Alcott’s story — Amy March
was so easy to hate. And I did hate her; I longed for Jo’s fierceness
and independence, and I denounced Amy for her jealousy and
sabotage. I could only ever see her as the anti-Jo, never as a woman
of her own.
That is, until Florence Pugh stepped into Amy’s shoes. Her
shoes from adolescence into early adulthood, I will add. Unlike
previous depictions, Pugh plays Amy in both flashbacks and the
present, and at any age steals the show. I smiled every time Pugh’s
Amy snuck in a clever dig at Jo. I didn’t resent her for her stance
on marriage, or for stealing Laurie. I recognized some of my
younger brother’s pain in hers. Not only that, but after all these
years I could even see myself in her: I cried when I saw the look of
impossible relief on Amy’s face, as she asked for forgiveness from
Jo without expecting to receive it. It’s a look I’ve worn myself,
many times.
That self-recognition would’ve been inconceivable to a younger
me. But the explanation is simple: Pugh finally showed me that
Amy is a full person, rather than my hero’s foil. Isn’t that what all
great performers force us to confront? It’s dangerous to reproduce
troubling sibling dynamics on screen; it’s a feat to undo it, and to
get a more complicated hero out of it. On that note, Pugh is the
real hero of this adaptation, and we’re the better for it: Our heroes
should be hard to love.
— Julianna Morano, Managing Arts Editor
2. Lupita Nyong’o: “Us”
Okay, so this is a little bit of a cheat because Lupita probably
deserves two spots on this list. One of them is for her performance
as Adelaide, a loving mother with haunting memories in “Us.” The
other is for her performance as “Red,” a murderous doppleganger
with a robotic instinct for violence and a memorably raspy throat
in “Us.” Indeed, it is impossible to articulate the level of acting
talent required to pull off roles as hero and villain in a movie
simultaneously, but Nyong’o carries the whole movie on her back.
Her stark duality is a feat in and of itself, but she also lends
credibility to the film’s mystifying twist ending. We thought we
understood Adelaide. But maybe, we no longer do. And the image
of her snapping to the offbeats of Lunis’s “I Got 5 On It” comes
back to haunt you.
— Anish Tamhaney, Daily Film Editor
3. Ana de Armas: “Knives Out”
In a movie full of familiar faces, Ana de Armas (“Blade Runner
2049”) is one of the least recognizable, dwarfed in the marketing
campaign by big names like Daniel Craig (“Spectre”), Jamie Lee
Curtis (“True Lies”), Christopher Plummer (“Beginners”) and
Chris Evans (“Avengers: Endgame”). Yet from the moment she
appears on screen, De Armas seizes the audience’s attention
and claims her position as the movie’s main character. Her role
as Marta Cabrera, the nurse of the recently deceased Harlan
Thrombey (Plummer) and a genuinely kind soul, is a breath of
normalcy in comparison with the ignorant and greedy Thrombey
family. De Armas’ performance is incredibly compelling, uniting
the film around a character who appears to be one of the few
people the audience can trust and whose emotions are palpable
and relatable. In a movie filled with crazy characters, being the
“normal” person is not easy, yet it is a role that De Armas takes on
with grace and skill.
—Kari Anderson, For the Daily
4. Honor Swinton Byrne: “The Souvenir”
Honor Swinton Byrne’s performance as Julie in “The Souvenir”
is not immediately notable. She is a vehicle for Hogg’s own
experience with a shady older man during her time in film
school. Nearly everything about her is normal — seemingly too
ordinary to be a character in a movie. But it’s precisely this sense
of harmless normalcy that gives the film’s building conflict its
searing edge. When Julie becomes involved with Anthony (Tom
Burke, “Only God Forgives”), all appears well. But it is only when
the audience grasps the magnitude of her gravitation toward
him despite his money problems, drug problems and alarmingly
callous disposition that we realize how hard it is for her to pull
away. And we are pulled in, too.
— Anish Tamhaney, Daily Film Editor
Best Actors
1. Roman Griffin Davis: “Jojo Rabbit”
Roman Griffin Davis’ performance in last year’s “Jojo Rabbit” is
remarkable and not just by child actor standards. In this role, that
of a 10-year-old Nazi youth struggling to decide what he actually
believes in, Davis is asked to emote what feels at times like the
entire human experience. Not only is he expected to provide much
of the film’s humor, his character undergoes several of life’s most
momentous emotional experiences — first love, first loss, first
realization that maybe the people you’ve looked up to for so long
aren’t so great after all. In short, Davis is responsible for carrying
the film, and he doesn’t just pull it off. He knocks it out of the
park, setting an entirely new standard for what child actors are
artistically capable of accomplishing.
— Elise Godfryd, Senior Arts Editor
2. Brad Pitt: “One Upon a Time in Hollywood”
“Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” is a whirlwind of a film, held
together by loose duck tape and one of Brad Pitt’s (“Ad Astra”) best
performances in years. In the role of aging stuntman Cliff Booth,
Pitt’s laid back charm and easy swagger come together to perfectly
embody a man going through the motions but seemingly content to
do so. Whole sequences rely entirely on the audience’s capacity to
like Brad Pitt, despite the hints at Cliff’s potentially violent past.
In the hands of an actor of Pitt’s caliber, it never seems to entirely
matter that Cliff Booth may be a murderous maniac. Maybe that’s
the point, or maybe Pitt can put on just that good of a show.
— Ian Harris, Daily Arts Writer
3. Adam Driver: “Marriage Story”
The most intense scene in “Marriage Story,” and arguably the
most intense scene of Adam Driver’s (“Star Wars: The Rise of
Skywalker”) career, has been meme-ified by the Internet. Many of
these memes revolve around the premise of Driver and Johansson’s
(“Jojo Rabbit”) big fight resembling the fights people have heard
countless times from their neighbors, their extended family, even
their own parents. Others simply mock the sheer drama of the
scene and the ferocity of Driver’s performance.
For the first, doesn’t this speak to the authenticity of Driver’s
performance, that he was able to so accurately replicate the
realities of marital strife? For the second, isn’t Driver’s burst of
anger justified within the context of the movie? His character
before this key moment is emotionally restrained in nearly
everything, a pushover in the face of his wife’s demands. The entire
movie builds up to this moment when he finally loses it. And his
outburst is a completely natural reaction to months and months
of emotional and psychological torment. Though it is certainly
dramatic, it’s also very human, and Driver makes it work.
— Elise Godfryd, Senior Arts Editor
Florence Pugh delivers best performance of 2019
B-SIDE: MUSIC NOTEBOOK
The best works the book review beat read in 2019
B-SIDE: BOOKS NOTEBOOK
DAILY FILM WRITERS
Daily Arts Writers
DAILY BOOK REVIEW WRITERS
Daily Arts Writers
COLUMBIA PICTURES
But the explanation is simple: Pugh
finally showed me that Amy is a full
person, rather than my hero’s foil
Read more online at
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4B —Thursday, January 16, 2020
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