Theory Girl Writes About Her Taste in Literature
On loving ‘sprawling’ books.
Back in college, someone called me ‘theory girl’. The title stuck. Not so much in other people’s heads but in mine. I wore it with pride: the fact that I was someone who could spend several undistracted hours pouring over convoluted arguments made by theorists across discourses — existentialism, postcolonialism, gender and sexuality, psychoanalysis, and more — and apply them to my reading.
More than ten years later, how I read then still informs all my reading now, even when it is for pleasure. I may not be able to spew words like voyeurism, zeitgeist, panopticon, reification, or Kafkaesque as fluently (or arrogantly) as I once used to — I sometimes miss the god complex that studying literature gave me — but (now, in humbler times), I still spend a lot of time reading between the lines and around books: historically and culturally placing texts, researching social contexts, grasping themes, intertextuality, or clever uses of language.
So, when I read Jess’ essay on her taste in books, my first instinct was to trace how literary taste has been theoretically defined — an instinct that would have led me down the path of what is good and bad literature, who decides taste, what does taste have to do with class and privilege, how does taste overlap with canon formation, and so on. I would have, undoubtedly, been plagued by these (very valid) questions for months and this essay-response would never get written.
I held back, mostly because what I want to define — for myself and the readers of this newsletter — is my taste in books. So, what you are about to read is, therefore, more of a personal essay than a cultural analysis. Let me preface this by saying that I have been very privileged to be able to pursue the degrees that I did and to continue reading as widely as I do, to even think that I have a definable taste in literature.
I want to create a compendium of sorts — a ready link to share with anyone who asks me what my favourite books are (please stop asking). I also want to reflect on the themes that I gravitate towards in my reading. I am treating this essay as an exercise in thinking through writing; a document that I can perhaps return to, some years later, to see how my thoughts and choices have evolved (or not).
The only answer that I have come up with to the question of my taste in books is that I love ‘sprawling’ narratives. I am quite impressed with myself for coming up with this rather — air quotes — ‘intellectual’ response that I have barely been able to substantiate (till now).
What informs this response? Firstly, my obvious dedication to/hangover of literary theory. I simply must make reading for pleasure difficult!
Two of my favourite reads from college are Paradise Lost by John Milton and Moby Dick by Herman Melville — I have since moved on from dead white men, I assure you — because of their sheer scope of themes that allows for rich theoretical analyses. Studying the cosmos in Paradise Lost or the white whale in Moby Dick was what my English-degree dreams were made of.
What I was after was making meaning out of these sprawling, expansive stories, written in equally sprawling, masterful language. What did these books have to say about society then and society now?
This brings me to the next point: I like to engage with what I am reading in a way that opens up my mind. I mostly read fiction and I like a book that introduces me to a place, a culture, a situation, a relationship that I may not be able to see or experience in my lifetime, but one that has been shaped by the forces in this world and shapes them back.
In this sense, I consider every writing, an act of writing back — and my favourite books are often those that write back to power.
Examples of some recently-loved books spring to mind — My Friends by Hisham Matar and Enter Ghost by Isabella Hammad — and some classics or responses to classics — Beloved by Toni Morrison, Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys, and The Meursault Investigation by Kamel Daoud (translated by John Cullen) — and some favourites over the last five years — Istanbul Istanbul by Burhan Sönmez (translated by Ümit Hussein), The Underground Railroad by Colson Whitehead, Celestial Bodies by Jokha Alharthi (translated by Marilyn Booth), and One Last Drink at Guapa by Saleem Haddad.
Sprawling narratives also mean, for me, intergenerational sagas; following a set of characters for several years; connected stories of seemingly distant people; a blip in the universe that has consequences; mixing of folklore and contemporary storytelling; and magic and wonder in world-building.
An underrated book that fits several of these interests is An Orchestra of Minorities by Chigozie Obioma. It may arguably be my favourite book of all time.
On the topic of all-time favourites, I have a question —
Other sprawling books that I have adored — and are the usual lot of my most recommended fiction to others — are Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi, A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki, the Neapolitan novels by Elena Ferrante, Hamnet by Maggie O'Farrell, Piranesi by Susanna Clarke, Kingdom Cons by Yuri Herrera, and the Xenogenesis Series by Octavia E Butler.
I love the clever uses of language, especially metaphors, in Ozeki’s A Tale for the Time Being and Hammad’s Enter Ghost, the shifting meanings of home in Gyasi’s Homegoing and Amitav Ghosh’s The Shadow Lines, the deceptively simple but immersive worlds built by Kazuo Ishiguro — Never Let Me Go and Klara and the Sun — Caleb Azumah Nelson — Open Water — Rin Usami — Idol, Burning — Elena Ferrante — The Lost Daughter — and Toni Morrison — Sula.
At 30 years old, I am looking for a book that moves me; one that makes me feel everything. The earliest book that I remember doing that was The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank — required reading in school.
My reading tastes have significantly moulded my personality, and I often go back to books I read in my 20s to — as cheesy as it sounds — remember who I am: a thinking, feeling, flawed, and ambitious human. This includes Shakespeare — reading and collecting his entire body of work is an ongoing project.
I often give in to the hype around new releases — James by Percival Everett and Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar sound exactly my type — even when it sometimes disappoints — The Details by Ia Genberg (translated by Kira Josefsson). There is something to be said about how BookTok, Bookstagram, and Booktube are impacting modern reading tastes and others have said and debated it better. For me, even when I give in to the hype, I often pick what aligns with my tastes or — if I am in the mood to experiment a little — somewhat relates to my (loose) definition of ‘sprawling’.
I have some bookmarked authors whose books — backlisted or new — I will almost always pick up. I find it difficult to read short story collections, mostly because I like to stay with the characters longer. I enjoy poetry — some favourites are the collections Love Without a Story by Arundhathi Subramaniam and Girls Are Coming Out of the Woods by Tishani Doshi — but don’t read nearly enough of it. My taste in non-fiction is very much in tune with my love for sprawling ideas. Some favourites are The Right to Sex by Amia Srinivasan and Trick Mirror by Jia Tolentino.
Phew… Does a love for sprawling narratives mean a sprawling taste?
I am sure I have missed some great and loved books read beyond the last few years. If I had to add to my taste — a taste wishlist of sorts — I would want to add more Indian literature and works in Hindi and Urdu — a potential project for next year, perhaps.
Further reading:
Read Jess’ essay that inspired this response. It also has intelligent thoughts on why should you have a personal taste in books and how taste is expansive, rather than restrictive.
I recently found this essay by Haley Larsen on how to read closely quite accessible and helpful. The first step in developing personal taste is learning to engage with what you’re reading — it’s easier than you think and eventually, with practice, it becomes muscle memory.
This was wonderful Nidhi, I loved reading more about your taste and have a few books to add to my tbr, too... As a reader of reviews, it's so invaluable to learn more about different reviewer's tastes and somehow it always gives me a different perspective on my own, too. I could read about it all day I think!
I loved reading this and learning more about your taste!! It really resonates with my own that I wrote about in my piece on taste.
I especially liked what you said about novels that “write back to power”; that’s part of why I love Babel by R.F. Kuang.