What Best Reads 2020 Are Recommended By Critics?

I remember 2016 as a fantastic year for books, with critics raving about several standout titles. 'Homegoing' by Yaa Gyasi was one of the most talked-about novels, praised for its sweeping historical scope and emotional depth. It traces the lives of two half-sisters and their descendants across generations, offering a powerful exploration of family and heritage. Another critical darling was 'The Underground Railroad' by Colson Whitehead, a reimagining of the historical network as an actual railroad, blending magical realism with brutal honesty about slavery. Critics also loved 'Evicted' by Matthew Desmond, a nonfiction work that sheds light on America's housing crisis through gripping storytelling. These books not only topped best-of lists but also sparked important conversations.

I’ve always trusted critics to guide me toward the most impactful reads, and their recommendations have never disappointed. One novel that consistently tops their lists is 'To Kill a Mockingbird' by Harper Lee. Its exploration of racial injustice and moral growth is timeless and deeply moving. Another masterpiece is '1984' by George Orwell, a chilling dystopian tale that feels eerily relevant even today. Critics also rave about 'The Great Gatsby' by F. Scott Fitzgerald, a beautifully written critique of the American Dream. For something more contemporary, 'The Road' by Cormac McCarthy is often praised for its haunting prose and emotional depth. These novels are not just stories; they’re experiences that stay with you long after the last page.

Back in 2020, the literary world was buzzing with some incredible award-winning reads. One that really stood out to me was 'The Mirror & the Light' by Hilary Mantel, which closed her brilliant Thomas Cromwell trilogy. It didn’t just win accolades—it felt like a cultural moment. Another gem was Maggie O’Farrell’s 'Hamnet,' a hauntingly beautiful take on Shakespeare’s family life that snagged the Women’s Prize for Fiction. Then there’s 'Real Life' by Brandon Taylor, a raw, intimate campus novel that was shortlisted for the Booker Prize. What I loved about these books was how they balanced depth with readability, making award-winning literature feel accessible. On the nonfiction side, 'Minor Feelings' by Cathy Park Hong was groundbreaking, blending memoir and cultural critique to explore Asian American identity. It won the National Book Critics Circle Award and stayed with me long after I finished it. And let’s not forget 'Deacon King Kong' by James McBride, which won the Anisfield-Wolf Book Award—its mix of humor and heart made it a standout. 2020 was a tough year globally, but these books offered solace and perspective, proving why they deserved those shiny stickers on their covers.

2020 was a wild year, but it gave us some incredible books that felt like they understood the chaos. 'The Vanishing Half' by Brit Bennett was one I couldn’t put down—it explores identity, family, and race with such nuance that I found myself thinking about it weeks later. Then there was 'Piranesi' by Susanna Clarke, which felt like stepping into a dream. The way she builds this surreal, labyrinthine world while keeping the emotional core so human blew my mind. For something lighter but equally gripping, 'Mexican Gothic' by Silvia Moreno-Garcia was my go-to. It’s this perfect blend of horror and historical fiction, with a protagonist who’s both sharp and relatable. And if you’re into non-fiction, 'Hidden Valley Road' by Robert Kolker is a haunting dive into a family’s struggle with schizophrenia, told with such empathy that it stays with you. Honestly, 2020’s silver lining was how many of these books made staying indoors feel like an adventure.

Historical fiction has always been my go-to genre for its ability to transport me to different eras while weaving compelling narratives. One of the most critically acclaimed works is 'The Book Thief' by Markus Zusak, which offers a poignant perspective on World War II through the eyes of a young girl in Nazi Germany. Another masterpiece is 'Wolf Hall' by Hilary Mantel, a richly detailed portrayal of Thomas Cromwell’s rise in the court of Henry VIII. Critics often praise its intricate character development and immersive storytelling. For those who enjoy epic tales, 'Pillars of the Earth' by Ken Follett is a must-read. Set in 12th-century England, it delves into the construction of a cathedral and the lives intertwined with it. 'All the Light We Cannot See' by Anthony Doerr is another gem, blending the lives of a blind French girl and a German boy during WWII with lyrical prose and emotional depth. These novels not only entertain but also provide a deeper understanding of history and humanity.

I spent way too much time tracking award lists last year, partly out of boredom and partly a weird fascination with what the committees pick. The obvious big ones: 'The Nickel Boys' by Colson Whitehead won the Pulitzer. Stunning book, but honestly it felt like a foregone conclusion even before it was announced. 'Hamnet' by Maggie O'Farrell snagged the Women's Prize for Fiction, which was a relief because I was worried they'd go for something more overtly political. That novel’s texture is its strength—the sensory details about grief and art. Shout-out to Douglas Stuart’s 'Shuggie Bain' taking the Booker. That one gutted me for days; it’s relentless in its portrayal of poverty and addiction in 80s Glasgow. I noticed a theme across awards: a lot of historical fiction that digs into societal wounds. Even 'Deacon King Kong' by James McBride, which won the Anisfield-Wolf Book Award, mixes crime and comedy with a deep look at a 1969 Brooklyn housing project. The awards that year seemed to favor novels with a strong sense of place and time, even if the prose styles varied wildly. A quieter one I loved was 'Real Life' by Brandon Taylor, shortlisted for the Booker. Didn’t win the big prize, but it nabbed The Story Prize later. Felt like a different breed of award-winner—campus novel, interior, tense.